


The Profligate Hypocrisy

by GravenLament



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Incest, M/M, Multi, Other, Post-War, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravenLament/pseuds/GravenLament
Summary: After Voldemort's defeat and the end of the war the Wizengamut has reintroduced severe draconian punishments for those convicted of being dark wizards. Though Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix campaigned to stop the implementation of these laws they were unsuccessful, and are now forced to play by the rules of the system to help rescue those people they believe capable of redemption. After several years word comes that one important figure thought deceased is actually alive and enslaved, compelling Harry to intervene.





	1. The Price of Irony

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains very graphic scenes depicting sex and violence. Discretion is advised. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. Rights to Harry Potter and the HP Universe belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Chapter One : The Price of Irony**

 

 

There was no denying that the young man striding through the halls of Lockheart's rather dubious establishment was good-looking. His features were striking, and his form handsome in its strong masculinity, but it was the man's eyes which drew the attention of all who beheld him. Bright, emerald green and utterly stunning, his eyes were magnetic and shone with vitality. In juxtaposition with his deeply tanned skin and wild raven black tresses, trimmed as they were in thick sooty lashes his eyes made him a man of uncommon beauty. His robes were of superior quality, bespoke, but an unassuming shade of charcoal. He was not one who wanted or needed flamboyant clothing to draw attention. He could feel the stares of those he passed, but refused to acknowledge them, concentration locked on his goal. Today he had a purpose and would not be distracted by idle admirers.

 

Harry Potter had come to meet Garvey Lockheart, older brother to Gilderoy Lockheart the famous author and Harry's long ago second year Defense teacher. If you could call him that. He'd imparted little knowledge during his short tenure at Hogwarts. Garvey was no author, but he was famous after a fashion in certain circles. Little was known of his activities after leaving Hogwarts, but in the years following the war, the man established himself as wizarding Britain's foremost slave dealer and trainer. Harry's lips twisted in distaste. He did not approve of the dispensation of punishment for those accused of dark magic by the ministry these days, and it was certain he loathed dealing with those who made their gold peddling human livestock. If he wasn't in such a foul mood Harry would have laughed at the irony of this being his fifth such purchase despite his feelings of abhorrence.

 

Harry came to an abrupt halt before a heavy oak door and rapped twice on the unforgiving wood. His knuckles stung, but at least the pain helped him maintain focus. He would need it. This was his fifth slave purchase, and quite possibly the most important. He had a promise to keep to an old friend in Scotland. He only hoped this would be his last errand of this nature.

 

“Enter!” a high clear voice called in greeting. Harry quickly opened the door and stepped inside the lavish office beyond.

 

Harry nodded in greeting as he stood before the man's desk. “Mister Lockheart.”

 

Garvey, golden haired and attired in robes of powder blue silk, was just as big a dandy as his brother, though his icy blue eyes revealed cold, shrewd cunning. To say that Harry disliked the man would be a massive understatement.

 

“Ah, Mister Potter. Right on time! Please, be seated.” the man simpered through his oily smile. Harry sat in the provided garish purple brocade chair and reenforced his hard won occlumency shields.

 

“I'm pleased you could see me on such short notice. I've heard you're in possession of a slave I'm interested in purchasing.”

 

“Direct and to the point as always, Mister Potter. I have many on hand at the moment. My stable is full, as it were. Which one in particular catches your fancy?” the man flashed a toothsome grin before turning to a filing cabinet beside his desk.

 

“Severus Snape.” Harry bit back a growl when the man chuckled upon hearing the name.

 

“Ahh yes, the dark stallion.” Lockheart pulled open one of the lower drawers and plucked a thick file in a green folder from within. He tossed it on his desk and flipped it open. “Severus Snape. Former Death Eater, former Potions Master, former Potions Professor. Fully trained, but can be a handful to manage on occasion. As you are an experienced owner I don't think that will be much of a problem for you.” The man hummed and tapped his lips with one well manicured finger. “Price is set at ten-thousand galleons. With his skills it should be higher, but I'm sure you're already well aware his looks are rather wanting.”

 

Harry forced his tone to remain even after listening to the wretched slaver. “I'm well acquainted with the man from my school days.” With supreme effort he managed a wry smile to accompany the acknowledgment.

 

Lockheart rifled through the file a moment before continuing. “Honestly it will be good to unload this unit. As I said, he's fully trained, but doesn't bring in the fees from the casual users like my other stock. Too ugly. Just the infrequent ex-student wanting to play a few BDSM games with him now and then. I must admit he is rather fun to punish. Probably due to the kind of man he was before he was properly broken. He was at two other training houses before I acquired him, and those amateurs made a royal mess of him. Took months to undo their incompetence, but in the end, as always, my firm hand prevailed.” Garvey leered before continuing. “Considering his strength and intelligence, I would send him to the pens for breeding; but again, too ugly. I wouldn't want to chance the offspring favoring him too heavily. He is available for immediate purchase.”

 

“I'll take him.” Harry stated, outwardly calm though he seethed internally. He could have haggled Lockheart down since the bastard had well illustrated why he considered Snape to be inferior stock, but Harry was nearing the end of his patience. Besides, even at full price he was getting a bargain compared to the others.

 

“Of course.” Lockheart smirked before ringing the small silver bell on his desk. A ragged elf dressed in a dirty tea towel popped into the room before the last note faded. “Bitsy! Have Mister Boot bring up unit one-thirteen and his kit, ready for transport.” The elf popped away and the smarmy man grinned as he slid the folder and a self-inking quill across the desk to his customer. “He comes with a full Ministry mandated bond contract that requires completion within twenty-four hours of sale. How will you be paying today, Mister Potter?”

 

“Do you still accept insignia imprints?”

 

“But of course! Just let me write out the bill of sale.”

 

Harry stifled a sigh as he read through the contract, then read it again, paying attention to each and every clause. It was more restrictive than the ones he'd taken on previously. Harry assumed that was due to Snape's former status as Death Eater, but wasn't certain. After all, he had two former Death Eaters at home already, and their contracts were simpler by far. He'd have Hermione pick it apart so they could exploit any loopholes later. She'd gotten rather good at it these past years. It was a shame she'd had to. Harry was drawn from his study of the contract by a light knock at the office door.

 

“Come in, Mister Boot!” Lockheart's voice was really beginning to grate on Harry's nerves.

 

“I've got the slave ready for you, sir.” Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw if Harry remembered correctly, announced as he entered the room.

 

“Well, bring him in then.”

 

Terry reached back into the hall and drew in a length of leather leash before giving it a sharp tug. With a clattering of metal upon stone, the tall lean form of Severus Snape stepped carefully into the room. Harry turned in his seat and froze. Yes. The figure was Severus Snape, but a very different Severus Snape than Harry remembered. He was just as pale as ever, but the proud bearing and seeming arrogance had been stripped away, leaving an altered creature in its wake.

 

The toned body was barely clad, leaving little to the imagination. Snape's long legs were laced to the knees in patent leather pony boots – explaining the sharp sounds which rang out with every step – that forced the man to basically walk on his tip-toes on artificial hooves. The muscles in his legs quivered with the tension of trying to maintain balance in the awkward footwear. Snape wore a jockstrap type garment of leather and steel mesh over his genitals with leather bands wrapping around his thighs and waist, while his torso was crisscrossed by the straps, buckles, and D-rings of a heavy bondage harness. His arms were pulled tight behind his back where Harry assumed they were bound. Everything was linked together in a convoluted fashion which Harry would no doubt have to puzzle out later. One could dress a slave with simple spells, but the gear had to be removed manually.

 

The man's long neck was encased in a harsh posture collar that forced his head up and disallowed movement, though it looked as if he wished to drop his head in shame or embarrassment if one were to judge by the blush staining his cheeks. His coal black eyes remained downcast staring at the floor in front of his boots. A gag made to resemble the bridle and bit used on horses stretched the man's lips back and away from teeth that had obviously been straightened and whitened in an attempt to make the man more appealing. Someone in a fit of whimsy had skinned Snape's hair tightly upwards and braided it into a crest atop the man's head leaving his long black tresses to fall from it to one side like a horse's mane.

 

That every aspect of the display was geared toward humiliating the man was readily apparent. Harry now understood why Lockheart had called the man the dark stallion. Harry couldn't look away. Garvey was quite wrong. Snape was not ugly. He was not handsome in the classical sense, but ugly was the last word Harry would have used to describe him. Though humbled, Harry thought the man looked quite impressive. Majestic in some strange otherworldly way. Harry was surprised to feel heat course through his veins as he gazed at his former teacher and was somewhat ashamed to feel his cock twitch in appreciation of the picture the man presented standing there.

 

The slave dealer clapped his hands twice in quick succession. “Turn around, slave!” Lockheart barked, and Snape pivoted in place as quickly as the ungainly pony boots would allow.

 

Harry swallowed hard. Snape's arms were indeed bound in locking leather sleeves, but that was not what had captured his attention. A magnificent long black horse's tail sprouted from the man's taut posterior, and since he was left bare there by the skimpy jockstrap, Harry could see exactly how the tail was affixed. It sprouted proudly from a plug of shining burnished steel that stretched the man's anus. With every slight movement of the man's hips the tail swished brushing the backs of Snape's smooth pale thighs. The skin of the slave's buttocks was reddened from a recent spanking making the steel and sleek black tail stand out all the more.

 

Garvey turned back to his customer. “Fully trained, as promised. This one gave me no end of headaches, but he's very compliant now, at times almost docile. He only becomes obstinate when overcome by a fit of latent modesty.” Lockheart chuckled as if amused by the absurdity of a modest slave before continuing. “Do you wish to take possession now, or make a closer inspection?”

 

Harry signed the forms and pressed his Gringotts family insignia ring to the indicated square at the bottom of the bill of sale. With a puff of smoke the bill of sale and file were duplicated and Harry slipped his copies inside the extradimensional pocket in his robes. He looked back at Snape, still facing away, only shifting his weight from foot to foot occasionally in obvious discomfort; whether from the boots, plug, or situation, Harry couldn't tell.

 

Harry stood and gave Lockheart's hand a perfunctory shake before removing his hooded cloak and stepping behind his new slave. He licked his lips as he again looked at the tail. He longed to run his fingers through the shining cascade of hair, grasp the base of the plug and perhaps twist the toy a bit deeper. Harry jerked himself out of his reverie and chided himself for his weakness. None of his other slaves ever affected him this way.

 

Harry draped the cloak over Snape's broad shoulders and raised the hood. The man twitched but managed to keep himself from flinching. Harry took a deep breath before stepping around Snape and facing what was now, for all intents and purposes, his property.

 

“Come, Severus. We're going home” Harry's voice was soft as he took the leash from Boot without looking at him, eyes only for his new slave.

 

Severus looked up from the floor for the first time and his eyes widened before he looked down once more, trembling. His memory remained intact. He recognized his new master. Harry wasn't sure if that would be a blessing or a curse.

 

Boot shoved a shrunken trunk into his hand and left the office. “Here's his kit, Potter.” Harry raised an eyebrow at his old classmate's rude behavior but chose not to comment. He just wanted to take Severus and leave.

 

Harry turned, gave one last nod to Lockheart, then gave the leash a mild tug to signal Severus to follow him into the hall. With a clattering of faux-hooves, the pair progressed through the labyrinth that was Lockheart's domain, Harry walking slower than usual to make it easier for Snape to keep pace while wearing the ridiculous boots. As delectable as Severus looked in his gear, Harry knew the man was dreadfully uncomfortable and he resolved to remove it from Snape's person the moment they were home and alone. That Harry would then get to drink his fill of his slave's fully nude form was secondary to the fact that Severus would have to be more comfortable without all of Lockheart's BDSM accoutrements.

 

When the unlikely pair exited the building at long last, Harry turned to his companion with a gentle smile. He was taken aback when he saw that Severus was looking skyward with tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Harry brushed them away with his thumbs recapturing his overwhelmed ex-professor's attention.

 

“How long has it been since you've been outside, Severus?” Harry asked, speaking soft and low.

 

Severus mumbled around the bit in his mouth. Harry almost winced. The man had been horribly ill-used and here his would be rescuer was lusting after him after having seen him in what had to be a soul crushing situation.

 

“My villa has extensive grounds, Severus. You'll have all the time outdoors you like. I promise you that.” Harry stoked a smooth tear stained cheek and smiled once more when Severus leaned into the light touch he bestowed with a look of gratitude. Then his heart clenched. Sweet gratitude was all well and good, but Harry reminded himself he must keep firmly in mind the man Severus had been. His strength, tenacity, and pride. The fact that Severus Snape would not harbor any tender feelings for a Potter. Harry shook his head and returned his attention to the matter at hand. “Now I will apparate us home. I'm going to put my arms around you, alright?”

 

Harry slid his arms inside the cloak and around the man's back to embrace him for travel. Harry thought once the boots were removed they would be fairly close in height though Severus would still have a few inches on him. Snape's toned body leaned against him and brought yet another smile to the younger wizard's face, quite against his will, and despite his internal admonishment only moments before.

 

This Severus was different, but there was still hope for him. He wasn't a cowering mess like some slaves Harry had seen, and that could only bode well for the once proud man. Harry focused his mind and magic on the apparition point at his estate, and with a crack the two wizards were gone.

 


	2. The Dark Stallion

****

 

Severus sobbed and jerked in his restraints as the thick leather paddle connected once more with his burning backside, all the while berating himself for his grievous error. He knew better than to disobey the young Master. The young Master was far kinder than Master Lockheart, but that didn't mean he tolerated such gross disregard of his orders.

 

“I'm sorry, Master! So sorry!”

 

Crack! The paddle landed again and Severus yelped. “I should bloody well hope so!” the young man shouted. Then rough fingers grasped his inflamed flesh and squeezed. “Tell me, slave. Are you ever going to cum without permission again?”

 

Severus sagged in the restraints and lowered his head in shame. “No, Master!”

 

“You are a fully trained and certified pleasure slave, even if you are an ugly bugger. You should be able to hold back without the cock ring if your Master desires it. Isn't that so, slave?” the young man growled in his ear, fingers still digging into Severus's abused buttocks.

 

“Yes, Master. I'm sorry for displeasing you.” Severus whimpered.

 

The young Master seized Severus by the hair and forced the slave's head back so he could look at his tear streaked face.

 

“But not you. You're too much of a cock whore to hold out like a slave should, and you messed the hem of my robes with your spunk like a filthy beast! I bet you'd hump my leg like a dog if I let you.” The cruel fingers twisted and scraped. “Wouldn't you? You're a filthy whore. Say it!” the young Master barked and smacked Severus' smarting arse with his bare hand.

 

“I'm a filthy whore!”

 

“What?” he demanded, tone cool and dangerous.

 

“Master!” Severus sobbed. “I'm a filthy whore, Master!”

 

“Yes. You are. But you're also a fully trained slave who shouldn't need reminding of his place every other fucking day! It's a good thing you've got me here to remind you.”

 

“Yes, Master. Thank you for reminding me of my place, Master.” Severus whispered. His throat felt rather raw after this discipline session. He hoped the young Master would allow him some water, though he knew he didn't deserve it. The young man behind him muttered something under his breath and the restraints stretching Severus' arms above his head released. Severus stumbled but managed to remain standing.

 

“Now, why don't you get on your knees and clean your mess, slave.” the young man said, almost as if making a casual suggestion, but Severus knew there was steel behind the words.

 

“Yes, Master.” Severus knelt as gracefully as he could with his injured bottom, and lifted the hem of the young Master's befouled robes to his lips, before opening his mouth and swiping his parched tongue through the half-congealed splatter of semen without hesitation. He fought his gag reflex and won. Within moments not a drop of the offending fluid remained, though Severus thought it might still stain.

 

Terry Boot chuckled and patted his former teacher on the head like a favored pet. “There's a good Professor.” Severus chanced a glance up at the young Master through his lashes and was relieved to see that the man was no longer angry. “Now, let's continue our game and see if you've taken the lesson to heart, shall we?” Severus was spared answering when an elf popped into the room and addressed the Master.

 

The creature bowed low, large ears brushing the floor. “Master Lockheart is ordering Bitsy to tell Master Boot he is to be bringing unit one-thirteen and his kit, ready for transport, Sir.”

 

“What? Why?” Terry didn't like his orders. He had grown rather fond of playing with his old professor. Watching the old bat grovel and debase himself was often the highlight of Terry's day.

 

“One-thirteen is being bought by new Master, Sir.” she replied, and then popped away as quickly as she had come.

 

“Well fuck. Will wonders never cease? Thought you'd be here till you died, Snape. Come on then. On your feet, I haven't got all day and I need to get you into your blasted kit again!” Terry grasped the older man by the hair and dragged him to his feet when he didn't move fast enough, annoyed that he'd have to clean and redress the slave he wasn't technically supposed to be playing with. Snape wasn't often requested by the guests so Terry thought he could spend his lunch break venting some frustrations without anyone being any wiser.

 

“Damn it all!” the man huffed as he cast the cleansing charms. He wasn't all that great with the standard slave dressing charms yet. Like many Ravenclaws he was better with the theoretical than the practical. As he usually had little contact with the slaves outside the performance hall, but helped Marcus with preparing the pony show for the main floor of the brothel every weekend, he could manage those charms well enough. Lockheart seemed to like seeing Snape kitted out that way, so Terry probably wouldn't get in any trouble for it. He shrugged and started pulling the necessary items off the shelves before summoning Snape's trunk. He'd put the basics that went with the man in there.

 

Severus stood with his eyes downcast like a good slave and accepted the rough treatment without complaint while inside his mind and heart were racing. A new Master! After over two years at Lockheart's someone wanted to buy him instead of just renting him for a few hours of casual torture! It was enough to make his head spin. Who was it, and what would they want with him? So absorbed was Severus in contemplation of this unprecedented event that he barely flinched when Boot flicked the hair dressing charm at him with a bit too much gusto, pulling his hair rather roughly into the proscribed mane-like style reserved for performers in the pony show.

 

“For Merlin's sake stroke yourself hard so I can put the cock guard on you! Here!” the young Master barked, shoving a leather cock ring into his free hand. “Put that on as well. You're to stay hard until your new Master finishes the claiming, understand?”

 

“Yes, Master.” Severus mumbled, stroking himself as commanded, coaxing his flaccid member back to rigidity.

 

Another spell saw the body harness wrapping about his torso and cinching tight. Next followed the blasted boots to which he could never quite acclimate. Severus stumbled, but in a rare show of compassion the young Master reached out and steadied him before manually buckling on the high collar that kept the slave from moving his head.

 

“I'm ready, Master.” Severus said, blushing a bit as he released his now erect penis. Boot tightened the cock ring a bit more before firing off the spell that covered the engorged organ in leather and mesh. Then the bit style gag was presented for him to bite, which he did without being asked, thankful the mouth piece was made of hardened leather instead of metal. It too was buckled closed in short order.

 

“Bend over the bar so I can add the tail, slave.” Terry ordered, turning to fetch the toy.

 

Severus bent over the padded punishment bar whimpering around the bit in his mouth. His backside was so sore. The horsehair would itch and irritate the abraded skin to maddening levels, Severus knew from experience. He felt the cold steel plug pressing against his pucker and did his best to relax and accept the toy despite the lack of lube and preparation.

 

It was uncomfortable, but a virgin he was not, and it slipped in without too much difficulty. He thanked whatever deities might be listening that the ornamental plugs were comparatively small. Lockheart kept one mounted on a punishment stool in his office called the Tower of Power that was thicker than Severus' fist at its widest point. Severus had never seen it used, but didn't doubt it had been. Severus himself had been threatened with it once shortly after he'd first arrived, and there were always whispered rumors among the slaves of other slaves who had been sentenced to hours on the dreaded Tower for serious infractions.

 

“Stand up and arms back for the sleeves.”

 

Severus did as he was told and soon his arms were hugged tightly behind him by the unyielding leather bondage sleeves. Master Boot gave him one last once over before snapping a leash to the collar and dragging him out the door. Boot dropped the leash and Severus stopped walking.

 

“Shit!” The young Master rushed back into Severus' old room and came back moments later with a shrunken trunk which contained Severus' meager supply of clothing, training aides, and discipline implements. Master Lockheart insisted each slave have their own permanent set for hygienic reasons. Severus agreed wholeheartedly with that policy. Better to prevent the spread of disease than to save a few galleons by sharing the equipment around.

 

As they climbed up from the basement level where the less desirable slaves were housed, they passed myriad rooms filled with slaves and the guests making use of them. Some slaves were restrained in erotic poses in the doorways waiting to be chosen. Men and women. Some Severus knew, others he did not. A few doors were closed with the “Do not disturb” runes activated. Many rooms, while occupied, remained open so anyone passing by could observe the raunchy happenings within. Younger slaves who could not yet be legally used for pleasure wandered the halls barefoot in short white tunics bearing trays laden with wine and hors d'oeuvres for the guests.

 

If Severus could have moved his head, he would have shaken it sadly. When human slavery was reintroduced to wizarding Britain it was to be a punishment for the darkest of witches and wizards. These children were far too young to have done anything to warrant such a sentence, and far too old to have been born into it. The laws had changed, and not for the better.

 

These were girls and boys who should be off at Hogwarts, learning magic and making ready for their futures. He doubted any would ever own a wand. Severus hadn't seen his in years. Industrial and household slaves were allowed to keep their wands after being fitted with limiting bands, but pleasure slaves were not, and Lockheart dealt only sparingly with industrial and household slaves. These children would never realize their potential as magical beings. Each wore the bronze inhibiting bands on their ankles which prevented accidental magic. Before Severus had completed his reconditioning he had worn something similar to stop him performing wandless magic, but he didn't like to think of that dark time.

 

“Oi! Terry! That's not old Snape is it?” a gruff masculine voice called from one of the rooms as they passed. The young Master stopped and turned forcing Severus to heel with a sharp jerk on the leash before drawing him closer so the questioner could get a closer look at him. The young Master had done this before. It seemed to amuse some of the guests to no end to see Severus here, and this particular Master seemed to enjoy showing him off whenever Severus was noticed.

 

“None other, Seamus. Not so high and mighty now, eh?” Terry's laughter was joined by that of the sandy haired Irishman who now stood leaning in the doorway, a female slave on her knees before him, pleasuring the man. Though one hand was buried in her curly black hair, roughly guiding her movements, he reached out with the other and pinched one of Severus' nipples.

 

“Blimey, ya know, I wouldn't mind a go at the old bastard as a bit of pay back. Is he free for the evening?” Seamus' eyes gleamed as he continued to pinch and twist. Severus whimpered but managed to suppress the urge to wrench himself free of the cruel fingers.

 

“Sorry, Seamus. No can do. Believe it or not someone's bought the bastard. I'm taking him up to the buyer now.”

 

“Ah, that's rotten luck. Could've had a lot of fun. Oh well, this one's got a talented tongue at least. Be better if it were pierced though.” Seamus shrugged as he finally released his hold on his former professor to grasp the woman's head with both hands so he could begin thrusting into her mouth in earnest. His eyes, however, never left the older slave, and Severus knew Finnegan was imagining him in the woman's place.

 

“See you at the Cauldron Saturday evening then, Seamus?” Terry called over his shoulder as he led Severus away.

 

“Yeah, see ya!” the Irishman forced out between grunts. The female slave was making choking noises now and Severus was suddenly grateful he had been purchased. He remembered Finnegan from Hogwarts. As a boy he'd had a temper and a bit of a mean streak, and it seemed he hadn't improved with age. An evening in the man's service would have been miserable at best. Time spent with his erstwhile students commonly was. Problem was, that's who tended to engage his services more often than not.

 

Severus couldn't readily recall the last time he'd been requested for regular sexual activities by a paying customer. Trainers used him on occasion, because as a lower echelon slave Lockheart was inclined to look the other way when they surreptitiously sampled his wares. Paying customers, not so much. They wanted to spend time further degrading him. When intercourse occurred with these customers it was brutal and often left him bleeding, in need of the staff medi-wizard, and unable to sit for a day or so.

 

Perhaps his new Master would be kinder to him. It was hard to imagine a situation being worse. After all, at least the slave codes forbid use of torture curses on human chattel. Permanent maiming was frowned upon as well. No, belonging to one Master whose habits Severus could become accustomed to, and learn to anticipate, would be infinitely easier to bear than a never ending parade of disgruntled Hogwarts alumni. And though Severus refused to hope, there was the slim possibility he would be treated benevolently.

 

The hope Severus hadn't wanted to acknowledge evaporated when they reached Master Lockheart's office and he finally beheld his new owner. He kept his eyes on the ground in Lockheart's presence, because to not do so was foolhardy, as any slave under the man's control could tell you. He stared at the floor, cheeks flushed quite against his will as the man who had broken and trained him ordered him to turn around so his new Master could better see what he had purchased, and then mocked him for his lingering modesty.

 

When his new Master draped a cloak over his shoulders so he wouldn't have to walk out of Lockheart's so scantily clad, Severus had felt great relief, until his benefactor stepped into his field of vision. Of all his ex-students, Snape knew his treatment of Harry Potter had been the most abysmal. He began to tremble, as fear flooded his being. He would give anything now to be spending the evening with Seamus Finnegan and his petty cruelties. What had he ever done to the Irish wizard beyond a few harsh words and detentions? At one time Severus had made it his life's mission to belittle and crush the very spirit of James Potter's progeny. Harry Potter's revenge would surely eclipse all Severus had experienced up until now. The young man was terribly powerful, and now legally owned him. If anyone could circumvent the Ministry's slave protection charms, it would be Potter.

 

Though his mind and emotions were in chaos, Severus followed his Master without hesitation, just as he'd been trained, surprised to not be dragged by the young man who led him. There was practically no tension on the leash, and Severus noted his Master gripped the length of leather only loosely. He also slowed his pace to accommodate the clumsiness engendered by the damnable pony boots his slave wore, as if he understood his slave could not move quickly and maintain his balance while wearing them.

 

Lost in thought he didn't realize they had reached the main entrance of the building until the door opened and he felt fresh cool air stir his cloak and caress his olfactory senses with scents he had not encountered in years. Crisp scents of autumn; pumpkin, rain, and burning leaves. Then Severus looked up and his breath caught in his throat as he gazed in wonder at the sheer magnificence of the darkening evening sky, painted as it was in intense shades of pink and purple, and the billowy clouds tinged golden by the sun hanging low on the horizon. His eyes burned and his vision blurred, but, transfixed, he could not look away. It was glorious.

 

Then came the miracle of a silken touch. Gentle fingers tracing his cheeks as his tears were wiped away. His Master bestowing upon him a look filled with such tender care Severus thought he would come completely undone. And then a promise that he would not be kept from such glory ever again. Warm arms enfolding him and the nearly forgotten squeezing sensation of apparition. It was all too much for the confused slave, and he surrendered to oblivion even as he leaned further into his Master's strong embrace.

 


	3. Trust Rewarded

He was warm, and he could smell bread baking. He heard hushed voices which sounded strangely familiar. He was being carried, cradled carefully against a broad chest. He felt safe yet still terribly confused. The hood of the cloak in which he was swaddled was pushed back from his face, and someone gasped.

 

“Oh, Professor.” the husky female voice sounded on the verge of tears. At one time it would have infuriated Severus to hear the underlying pity, but now he could only wonder that someone felt anything for him at all. Somewhat sweaty hands fumbled at his face and removed the bit and bridle. Severus sighed quietly in relief and licked his dry lips. “What have they done to you?”

 

“Don't, Millie. Not now.” his Master's voice rumbled pleasantly under him, and he realized who it was that carried him. His eyes shot open and his body tensed in panic. “Easy, Severus. Everything is alright. No one will hurt you here.”

 

“You're safe, sir. I promise.” Severus looked from his Master to the woman who had removed his hood.

 

“Yes, Miss Bulstrode.” he rasped before dropping his eyes from the rather masculine young woman's face and forcing himself to relax.

 

“Just Millie will do. We're all very informal here.”

 

“That we are. I'm taking him up to my chambers to make him comfortable. Could you find Draco and send him up with the medical kit please? And ask Lucius if he wouldn't mind sending a pair of pajamas and a dressing gown for Severus to wear. They are about the same size so that should work until I can have Mister Tatting in.”

 

Severus closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing mind. Not an easy task since his skill at Occlumency had been stripped away. Millicent Bulstrode? Draco and Lucius Malfoy? Why on Earth was his Master, Gryffindor extraordinaire, surrounded by Slytherins?

 

“Alright, Harry. Shall I send up a tray as well?”

 

“Are you hungry, Severus?”

 

Was he hungry? He hadn't eaten since yesterday, but he had become used to going without food. Basement level slaves often did. Did Master want him to beg for food? Some did. They found it amusing for some reason Severus had been unable to deduce.

 

“If it pleases, Master.” he answered, prepared for the requisite begging. He couldn't understand why his words made his Master sigh.

 

“Send up a tray, Millie, thanks.”

 

And then they were moving. Severus looked at his surroundings through his lashes. They were in an old Roman villa, and though ancient the building was well maintained. Mosaics covered both the walls and the floors. If he could have tilted his head back he would have seen they covered most of the ceilings as well. The furnishings were rich if a bit archaic in design. All in all it seemed a rather sumptuous abode, but not something he would normally associate with what he knew of his Master. He had thought the man inherited the townhouse at Grimmauld Place.

 

After climbing a short flight of stairs his Master carried him through a door which opened for them on their approach. They passed through a sitting room filled with furnishings that were less antiquated than anything he had seen in the villa thus far, and into a large bedroom dominated by a massive bed which could comfortably accommodate at least a half-dozen people. It was beside this behemoth Severus was finally placed on his feet.

 

The ex-professor dropped to his knees in front of his Master, and were it not for the posture collar would have bowed his head as well. He settled for lowering his eyes to the floor between his Master's feet.

 

“How can this slave serve you, Master?” he recited dutifully, as he had been taught.

 

His Master sighed heavily before dropping to sit on the bed. Severus carefully shuffled on his knees to face the young man, mentally preparing himself for whatever demands were forthcoming. A soft hand caressed his cheek before sliding down to cup his chin. Severus looked up into the intense green eyes momentarily to gauge the man's mood, but was unable to read him, unlike those bygone days at Hogwarts when the boy this man once was had been an open book.

 

“Oh, Severus. What am I going to do with you?” his Master asked in tired exasperation.

 

“Whatever Master wants.” Severus whispered. What was the man waiting for? Why was he not demanding pleasure and submission?

 

The young man raked a hand through his perpetually untidy hair. “First I think I want to get you out of all that leather. It can't be comfortable. Draco should be here with the medi-kit by then, and we'll put some balm on your backside. It looks very sore. Then we'll see. Perhaps you'd like a bath? Or would you rather eat first? What would you like, Severus?”

 

As his Master spoke the nimble fingers began to work with careful diligence at unraveling the braided crest atop Severus head. Soon the mane was undone, and the wonderful fingers massaged his scalp soothing away the ache left by the severe hairdressing charms. Severus couldn't help groaning with appreciation and closed his eyes to better savor the sensation. He had seen the more attractive slaves handled in this manner, as though cherished, but had never experienced it himself. It was wonderful. No wonder those slaves had lorded it over the rest of them.

 

All too soon the magic fingers left his head, and Severus opened his eyes. His Master was regarding him with a strange mixture of fondness and gratification. If Severus didn't know better he would have thought his Master was deriving as much pleasure from caring for him as he was at receiving the attention. Then the Master leaned forward and pushed the borrowed cloak from his shoulders before reaching behind him to unbuckle the collar. Again he rubbed the freed flesh making Severus tingle. It felt so good to be touched without cruelty. So amazingly good. If only it could last.

 

“I'm going to help you to stand now, Severus, and we'll remove the rest.” The young man took hold of his shoulders and they rose together. “Turn around for me, and I'll free your arms.”

 

Severus happily complied. His hands were becoming a bit numb at this point. His master hummed under his breath as he worked through the locking closures. At one point he thought the man muttered something but let it go, content to drift in his thoughts and allow his Master to work unquestioned. Once the arm binders were removed and discarded his Master indicated he should turn back around. Severus was rewarded for his swift obedience by the young man gently chaffing his arms to return circulation.

 

“What would you like me to remove next, Severus?” his Master asked, still rubbing Severus' arms. Severus hesitated. Should he ask? So far his Master hadn't played any mind games with him. Perhaps it would be alright to be honest.

 

Severus bit his lip a moment before finally answering. “Would... would you remove the tail now please, Master?” He hated that he sounded so weak. So needy. It wasn't to be helped. He was what they had made him.

 

Harry nodded and gestured toward the bed. “Of course, Severus. Why don't you lie down on your stomach to make it easier.” His Master's tone was so kind that Severus couldn't help glancing once again at the handsome young face and offering the man a shy smile.

 

“Thank you, Master.” he answered as he moved to the bed as directed. The velvet duvet was plush and cool beneath him and Severus rubbed his face against the lush fabric. It had been ages since he'd touched anything so fine. His Master moved closer to the bed and was leaning over him to remove the tail when a knock sounded on the door to distract him.

 

“Just a moment, Severus. That will be Draco.”

 

Severus whined low in his throat at the thought of his godson seeing him in such a state. A calming hand descended to clasp his shoulder.

 

“It's alright. I won't let him in. He's just delivering the items I requested downstairs.”

 

As promised no one was admitted to the room. His Master opened the door only a fraction and slipped through the gap. Severus could hear muffled voices but not make out what they were saying to one another. He heard a door slamming, probably the one that led from the sitting room to the hall, and then his Master returned arms laden with supplies.

 

“Draco wasn't happy that he wasn't allowed to see you. I told him that tomorrow would be soon enough, but well, I'm sure you remember how impatient he can be.”

 

Severus released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. “Yes, Master.” Secure in the knowledge his godson wouldn't be entering, Severus rested his head back against the plush fabric of the bedspread. It was such a lovely feeling. His Master sighed again and came back to the bed.

 

“Do you think you could manage to call me, Harry, Severus? I'd really prefer to not be called Master.” the young man asked, voice weary. Severus looked up at the man and then back to the bed. Could he? If Master requested to not be called Master, was that acceptable? If he did call the Master by name that violated Master Lockheart's training, but if he did not he would be disobeying his Master which would also violate the training. He was no longer owned by Master Lockheart. He was owned by Harry Potter. It made him feel uneasy, but the decision was made.

 

“I will try, Mas... Harry.” Severus managed to force out the name and winced, expecting a blow that never came.

 

“Thank you, Severus. That's all I ask.”

 

Severus felt a light tugging at the plug held firmly in his bottom and bit his lip. It hurt. It had been inserted dry and without prep, and now didn't want to come out. He'd had this happen before. The removal wouldn't be pleasant. Another little tug and Severus cried out before clamping his mouth shut.

 

“Severus! Am I hurting you? I'm so sorry!” And for a wonder, he sounded sincere.

 

“Master Boot did not use lubrication, Mas... Harry. It has happened before. It hurts but must come out... Harry. Please?” Severus explained, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

 

“That fucking moron!” Severus jumped and began shivering when Harry shouted. “Shh, Sev. It's okay. I'm mad at Boot, not you. He should have known better.” Harry carded his fingers through Severus' hair, calming the older man. “Is he the one who spanked you so badly as well?”

 

“Yes, Master. I... I came without permission. I forgot my training. He had to correct me.” the man confessed, voice awash with shame.

 

“And what led to that?” Harry asked in a flat voice.

 

“Master Boot was testing me. He loved testing me. This slave must submit to the training wand without a cock ring and keep himself from climaxing.” was the quiet reply. Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought Severus was crying.

 

“I see. And what does the training wand do, exactly?”

 

“Master inserts the special plug and uses the training wand to control pulses of stimulation directly to the prostate. I came before Master Boot said I could. I am sorry for my incompetence, Master.”

 

“Oh, Severus. You can hardly be blamed for your body's natural response to something like that. Boot is an arse, pure and simple. It'll be alright. I have an idea to help ease this plug out without hurting you more. Will you trust me, Severus?” The voice warm with compassion and the gentle fingers still combing through his hair convinced the man to try.

 

“Yes, Mas... Harry.”

 

“Raise up on your knees, Sev.” Harry withdrew the comforting hand and Severus obeyed. Then his Master went to work unfastening the leather cod piece which covered his genitals. When the garment was removed his master gasped and Severus felt one of those delightful fingers trail down his painfully erect organ. He knew without looking that it was an angry purple red, and were it not for the cock ring would be weeping droplets of fluid from the tip. “How long has it been like this, Severus?”

 

Severus shivered. “Master Boot placed it on me just before bringing me to you, Harry.”

 

“Why?” It was clear by his tone that Harry was trying his best to keep him emotions in check.

 

“Master Boot said I must not come again until Master claims me as his own.”

 

“Terry Boot is a sadistic bastard, and I'm liable to hex the git should I see him again.” Harry growled as he eased off the specialized restraint. “You are to disregard Boot's orders, Severus. You have my permission to come when you want to. To take your pleasure as you will. Alright?” In stark contrast to the anger bleeding through in his voice, Harry's hands caressed the abused organ, soothing the deep ache in Severus' balls and causing the slave to whimper in relief.

 

“Thank you, Mast... er Harry.”

 

“You're welcome, Severus. Now. I'm going to go to work on the plug. Just relax as much as you can. If it will help distract you, go ahead and touch yourself.” Harry released his cock and climbed onto the bed behind him. The irritating tail attached to the plug was swept over Severus' back and he felt the younger man's hands spread his sore cheeks apart to better expose the offending toy. “If I do this right, it might even be pleasant.”

 

Severus had no time to examine that statement before he felt what could only be the warm wet tongue of his Master begin to circle the stretched flesh where the steel plug entered his body, teasing and massaging the swollen pucker with amazing agility. Slick with saliva the dexterous organ began to work itself, a millimeter at a time, between flesh and steel, relieving and lubricating skin which had been crying out for moisture.

 

Severus moaned. He was still sore, yes, but his Master's ministrations felt remarkably good all the same. And arousing. Wasn't that amazing? No one had ever stimulated Severus in this way before, and he began to understand why Lockheart's guests enjoyed receiving this particular favor. Not only was it the pleasant sensations it produced, it was also that delicious sense of the taboo. That it was his Master, Harry Potter's, tongue lapping at that bit of forbidden flesh only intensified the feeling. Severus longed to take his cock in hand and add to his enjoyment, but though he'd been given permission, his conditioning made it impossible for him to do so unordered.

 

Harry's tongue further invaded him, pushing deeper, slicking the toy inside. When the young man grasped the toy and began to slowly twist it in counterpoint to his tongue, Severus howled and thrust back against him. The hot invader abandoned its work and before Severus could groan in protest the plug was being slipped free its prison. Severus' sob of relief shifted to a moan of appreciation as his Master's mouth returned to its former occupation, finally uninhibited by the offending steel. The aching ring was laved and sucked before the strong muscle forced itself back inside, wriggling, questing, and bringing with it pleasure the likes of which Severus had never hoped to receive. It was a torture most exquisite. It was too much. Severus came, and came hard before collapsing, his face pressed to velvet as his body shook with the intensity of his climax. For the second time that day, Severus lost consciousness.

 

The man did not hear Harry's low chuckle, nor feel the soft hands stroking his lower back and flanks. Being insensate in his satiation he did not hear the young man repeat the question he'd asked not long before.

 

“Oh, Severus. What am I going to do with you?”

 

Severus slept on.

 


	4. To Resolve to Integrity

Harry smiled down at the exhausted man sleeping on his bed, happy to have given him enjoyment and comfort, no matter how fleeting. He glanced at the plug laying on the floor and frowned. With a casual flick of his fingers the offensive object vanished. He felt ashamed now that it had so aroused him when he first saw it in Lockheart's office. Ashamed and disappointed in himself.

 

He owned two other pleasure slaves and had no inclinations toward enjoying them in the way he did his former professor. For Lucius and Draco, he felt sexual indifference. He simply wasn't attracted to them. After their respective claimings he'd never dallied with either again, though he knew Draco at least would be receptive to his advances. Now he had cordial relationships with each. He was perhaps a bit friendlier with Draco, but they all got on well enough.

 

It was going to be harder with Severus. First, he was fully trained, whereas Draco and Lucius had been at Lockheart's mere weeks before Harry purchased them. Their previous personalities remained mostly intact. Severus' perceptions were altered to the point where he expected to be used sexually, and due to his conditioning was ready and willing to do whatever was asked of him.

 

He found the man unbelievably attractive. Emotionally, he felt a connection to the man as well. It would be difficult to keep his hands to himself where Severus was concerned. Even now as the man slept Harry was caressing the pale skin of the Severus' back, memorizing the satiny texture with his fingertips. Harry frowned and furrowed his brow, removing his hand from Severus' body. He wasn't even sure of Severus's natural inclinations before the intense training he'd been forced to endure.

 

Harry sighed and began to work at undoing the ridiculous amount of buckles on the body harness his slave still wore. If the man were free, Harry would not be his choice for a partner, no matter what his preferences. He knew that without doubt, and really needed to keep that in mind. It would be unfair to take advantage of the slave's emotional vulnerability. Severus' needs had to be put first, just as he did with Draco, Lucius, Millie, and Blaise. They all depended on him, and he couldn't let any of them down.

 

Harry levitated the still sleeping slave and removed the harness before allowing him to settle back on the bed. With infinite care, the young man applied the healing balm to the man's abraded skin, slipping one slender finger inside the still swollen anus to coat the passage and speed healing there as well. Severus mewled in his sleep and pushed back against Harry's probing finger, gripping tightly, causing Harry to groan and withdraw the digit. If Harry had an ounce less integrity it would be all too easy to use the man for the purpose for which he'd been trained. How easy it would be to secure his slave's utter devotion. Harry shook his head and eased the man onto his back so he could unlace the heavy pony boots. Severus' feet had to be nearly as sore as his bottom, trapped as they were in the unnatural footwear.

 

Noticing the man's abdomen was smeared with drying semen Harry muttered a light cleaning charm and continued undressing his slave, admiring the shapely legs which had been hidden by the knee high boots. Vanishing the boots like all the rest of the gear, Harry began massaging Severus' legs and feet starting at the calves. After tonight he might never be able to touch Severus again, so he was determined to savor all he could. And savor he did; each touch bestowed like a worshipful prayer offered at a temple to which he may never again gain admittance.

 

Harry's thoughts were both conflicting and chaotic, and he cursed the situation and the Ministry for causing it. He and most of the surviving members of Dumbledore's Order had campaigned tirelessly to prevent the Slave codes being brought into effect, but despite their status as heroes they had failed. Too many people wanted to see the fallen Death Eaters punished for the Order to have much influence, even with Harry's backing. He didn't blame them for the sentiment, but felt the way in which it was being carried out was an insult to all they had fought so valiantly to attain. Freedom. That Severus should be enslaved after all he had sacrificed was the biggest insult of all. If only they had known he survived, perhaps it could have been avoided.

 

And yet... Severus was here now, and the situation could not be changed. Was it so wrong to accept the man for what he now was? No matter what they did for him, the former professor would never be the same man who had terrorized a generation of Hogwarts students. Would it be kinder to push for whatever rehabilitation was possible, or allow him to continue as he was?

 

Would Harry ever have been attracted to the old Severus Snape? He just didn't know. In those days Harry had been too busy fighting dark forces to focus on his burgeoning sexuality. He knew he had come to esteem the memory of the late master spy in the past few years. But now Snape lived. Harry could not reconcile his feelings and had no one with which he could discuss them. Those under his protection were in a similar predicament and unlikely to sympathize with their master, and Hermione wouldn't understand at all. She would probably be incensed by what Harry was feeling, and indignant on Severus' behalf.

 

What he was feeling... Harry wasn't sure what he was feeling. There was strong attraction, yes, but also a desperate tenderness that made the young man's heart clench and ache for the slave. There was a drive to protect and care for the broken man with every fiber of Harry's being. He'd never felt anything like it in his life. Then there was guilt. The guilt that came from knowing he left Severus alone after receiving the man's memories during the final battle, thinking him dead. If only he had thought to go back and check. He had assumed the man had been buried on the grounds of Hogwarts like most of the other unclaimed dead. Harry, being in rather bad shape himself at the time, had not attended the funerals, nor had be been back to the school to this day.

 

When Minerva sent word that an acquaintance informed her that Severus was alive, and exactly what had become of him, Harry felt the heavy mantle of responsibility settle on his shoulders like a dead weight. That was the root of the problem, he was sure. Harry knew he had a hand, however indirect, in the molding of the creature Severus Snape had become as a slave.

 

Winky popped into the room with a dinner tray and Harry was glad of the respite she offered from his bleak thoughts.

 

“Thank you, Winky.” he whispered, granting her a slight smile.

 

The little elf curtsied. “Master Harry is quite welcome.” the elf replied just as quietly, placing the tray on the bedside table with care. “Is Master Harry wanting anything else?”

 

“No, thank you, Winky. That's all.”  
  


And then the elf was gone. Harry cast a warming charm on the tray so it would remain fresh until he and Severus were ready for it, and then turned his attention back to the man's feet which were just as pale and slender as the rest of him.

 

Using his thumbs to rub and knead the instep of one foot he was alerted to Severus' return to wakefulness by a barely perceptible groan. Smiling he looked up from the appendage and into inscrutable black eyes that glittered like volcanic glass. Then Severus shook his head and blinked rapidly as if unsure what he was seeing was real or illusion.

 

“Hello, Severus. Feeling better?” Harry released one foot and began work on the other.

 

“I...” the man trailed off and looked down, taking stock. “Yes, Master. I feel very well.”

 

“Harry. And good. Would you like to get dressed? I have pajamas for you here that Lucius sent up with Draco. You fell asleep before we got that far.” Harry couldn't help but chuckle when he saw the sheepish expression on Severus' face. “Also Winky brought us dinner.”

 

Severus bowed his head. “If it pleases you, Harry.”

 

“Well I'm sure you'd like to get into some comfortable clothing before you eat, wouldn't you?” Harry asked, thumbs working their magic drawing forth another appreciative groan.

 

“I am used to wearing very little, Harry. It does not matter.” Severus stated without inflection.

 

Harry frowned. “Severus... you are used to the way Lockheart does things. Your life here with me will be a great deal different. For starters, my slaves wear whatever they like. I know you don't have much of your own – Lockheart undoubtedly only provided you with a few short tunics in addition to the leather wear – so until I can have you outfitted, Lucius' pajamas should fit you fairly well. You look to be about the same size. Perhaps a bit thinner.”

 

“I... thank you, Harry. I would like to wear the pajamas.” Severus blushed while making the declaration, but Harry was pleased he was able to bring himself to make it at all. It was a step in the right direction for the man. “So you have three besides me, Harry?” Harry smiled to show he didn't mind being questioned.

 

“Four. Blaise Zabini is here as well, though he spends most of his time out on the grounds or in his little apartment over the stables, so we don't see much of him.” Severus blinked rapidly again, trying to take everything in.

 

Severus arched one elegant brow, and Harry was heartened to see the once familiar expression on the older man's face. “Why are Millicent and Blaise here, Harry? They were not Death Eaters, or even all that dark in their leanings.”

 

Harry sighed and closed his eyes for a moment as if in pain. “The laws have changed a great deal over the past several years. It isn't only the darkest wizards being enslaved now. It is possible to seize as slaves those who are in debt to you, whether it is a life debt or outstanding financial debt. It is also possible for family Heads to sell off dependents so long as they aren't in direct line of succession. Dower-less daughters most often meet that fate, as with our Millie. I still don't know what led to Blaise being enslaved. He refuses to speak about it. Both he and Millie were sold into the Household class. Lucius and Draco, however, are classed as pleasure slaves.” Harry explained as delicately as he could.

 

“Harry, why? That is... Lucius and Draco are very beautiful men. Why did you buy me when you already have them?” Severus blushed again, thinking that his new Master must have a very active libido to require three pleasure slaves.

 

Harry couldn't stop himself laughing when he saw the expression on Severus' face. He had a very good idea what the poor man was thinking.

 

“Severus, I don't think you quite understand. They are classed by the Ministry as pleasure slaves, but they do not live as pleasure slaves.” Seeing the blank incomprehension Harry elaborated. “I have not had sexual relations with either of them since their claimings. Draco and Lucius help me run my estate. Millie is sort of like a house keeper. She manages the elves and what not. Blaise has appointed himself in charge of the magical livestock. Mostly though, we just live as a kind of family. A somewhat dysfunctional family, but a family none the less. I do not treat any of them as slaves. Understand?” Harry asked, hopeful he had clarified everything well enough.

 

“So I am to be your only pleasure slave then, Master?” Apparently he hadn't.

 

“Severus,” he began slowly, carefully constructing his response. “You will be treated like the others. After your claiming if you never want me to touch you again...” Harry swallowed hard, hating having to say it, but knowing he must. “If you never want me to touch you again, I won't. It is your body, Severus, and in my House the only one with rights over your body is you.” Harry looked at the man earnestly and gently relinquished his hold on Severus' foot. Severus stared Harry as if he'd grown three heads.

 

“But earlier...” Severus trailed off, blushing yet again. Harry thought he looked adorable but didn't voice his opinion on the matter. “Earlier when you... I thought you liked... It was as if...”

 

“I enjoyed what we shared earlier, Severus. I won't lie to you. I find you very attractive. I wouldn't mind doing that sort of thing with you on a regular basis. I like looking at you. Touching you. But what I would like doesn't matter. I meant what I said. I won't treat you as a pleasure slave. If you don't want my attentions, you don't have to suffer them.” Harry began to reach out for the man, but thought better of it and dropped his hands.

 

Severus opened his mouth to reply but couldn't seem to find the right words to express whatever thoughts were swirling behind his obsidian eyes. After a lengthy silence during which the two men gazed intently at one another, Severus nervously carded his fingers through his hair and began again.

 

“You... you won't send me back to Master Lockheart, or sell me to another Master if I say I don't want to have sex with you?”

 

“No, Severus, I won't.” Harry patted his foot briefly in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “You'll always have a home here, no matter what you choose to do.”

 

“Always?”

 

“Yes, Severus. Always,”

 

“I don't know what I want, Master.” Slow tears leaked from his eyes and Severus scrubbed them away in annoyance. “I don't know what you want me to do.”

 

“I want you to do whatever makes you happy.” Harry gave the man a halfhearted grin. “That's all.” It was all he could admit to the man. Privately he wished he could embrace his hidden Slytherin nature without his Gryffindor conscience brow beating him for the presumption.

 

Severus visibly struggled before finally bursting forth with what looked like a painful admission. “I liked it!” Severus sounded strangled as he spoke. “I liked what you made me feel! I liked feeling special!”

 

“There's nothing wrong with that, Sev. I liked making you feel that way.”

 

“I shouldn't like it!” Severus was all but shouting now. “You are Master. Your needs come first! This slave doesn't matter!”

 

“Not anymore. Not here.” This time Harry did lean forward and took Severus' hands in his own. “Don't worry too much about it now. This has to be strange to you. Shocking even, after all you've been taught. But you have all the time in the world to sort out your feelings. There is no right or wrong answer, Severus. You're overwhelmed, but things can only get better from this point.”

 

“Please don't send me away.” When Harry heard Severus whisper, almost too low to be heard, he scooted closer and pulled the man into his arms.

 

“I promise, Severus.” Harry whispered back, voice fierce despite the lack of volume. “You will always have a home here. I swear on my life and magic.”

 

Light flared between them and the vow was sealed. Severus looked at the younger man in awe and finally allowed himself to hug Harry back, clinging to him in quiet desperation. Harry kissed Severus' forehead, just a feather light brush of lips, but it was enough to calm the anxious slave.

 

“It won't be easy, Severus, but you'll learn. Or unlearn, rather. Things will get better.” Finally Harry released his former professor and stood to retrieve the nearly forgotten pajamas. “Here, take these and go through the door to your left. That's the bath. Get cleaned up and dressed, then we'll eat, alright? I've cast a warming charm on the food, so take all the time you need.”

 


	5. When Pride Falls

Severus closed the bathroom door and sagged against it, taking deep breaths and marshaling his wayward emotions. Today had been trying, and his already fragile psyche could ill afford another meltdown. He gripped the bundle of silky pajamas tighter to his chest and exhaled long and slow before forcing himself to stand up straight.

 

The bath, like the villa, was Roman in style. The aquamarine and white mosaic tiles gleamed under the charmed light globes suspended from the ceiling, and the heady spice laden scent of soap and essential oils filled the air. Severus was rarely gifted the opportunity to bathe. At Lockheart's the lower slaves often made do with only the cleaning charms their trainers scoured them with after a session. Now Severus had his Master's express permission to take his time with his toilette. He would make the most of it. He didn't think Harry would withhold baths in future, but one could never be sure what a Master would or would not do.

 

The pale man took a moment to place his bundle of clothing on a handy bench, then padded to the edge of the massive sunken tub. Steam swirled and eddied above the clear water, and Severus dipped a cautious toe into the pool, smiling when he found the temperature to be just right. He descended the steps into the tub and sighed as his lean form was enveloped by the fragrant liquid. Perfection.

 

The water came to his waist and raised to caress his shoulders as he sat on the submerged ledge which encircled the bath. Without warning he felt a multitude of tiny bubbles race over his flesh, making him feel as if he'd plunged into a pool of peroxide. Severus jumped and looked down but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Concluding it was a charm built into the tub he relaxed and allowed himself to be cleaned. It was a rather pleasant feeling once one became used to it, and he was content to let the bath do the majority of the work for him.

 

The evening had thus far been emotionally draining, but Severus was hardly going to complain. The kindness and consideration he'd been shown by his new Master, a man who by all rights should despise him, had been phenomenal. Though he had yet to be truly claimed, he felt little trepidation of the coming event. At Lockheart's he was indubitably fraught with anxiety when he knew he was scheduled to serve a guest or perform in a show, and with good cause. Those occasions always ended in pain and humiliation. Harry, though, had already proven himself willing to go out of his way to ensure Severus' dignity and comfort. He had even given Severus a magical vow without prompting or coercion. There were worse fates than being that particular Gryffindor's slave, and well he knew it.

 

It was strange that he was so accepting of his life now, when he had stuggled against it so obdurately in the beginning. He knew he was Severus Tobias Snape. All of his memories and intellect remained intact, but he was altered none the less. His previous feelings and convictions were disconnected and distant to him now. So changed was he that, were he to find himself in possession of a wand with his magic suddenly restored, he would likely do nothing more than present his Master with the magical instrument and intelligence of his magic's restoration. Indeed, had he not already demonstrated his willingness to confess to any misdeed no matter how insignificant? Secrets and subterfuge were alien to his nature now, no matter how intrinsic those traits had once been to his character. Lockheart's conditioning saw to that.

 

Lockheart. Severus closed his eyes and shuddered at the thought of his former Master and trainer. The cruel man was good at what he did. Diabolically so. The Ministry's training camp had not broken Severus, nor had the small private facility they shunted him to after his second escape attempt. Both turned out exceptional industrial slaves by the score, but could not tame the Potions Master. Severus Snape sneered at their efforts and undermined the fools guarding him at every turn. It wasn't until his fourth and final escape attempt from the second facility, Craven's, that they'd washed their hands of him and sold him to Garvey Lockheart. That was the end of Severus Tobias Snape, Potions Master. Within six months all that remained was Severus the humble and subservient slave. Severus drifted with his memories, unaware that he was crying once more.

 

Six burly aurors dragged a struggling man into the lavish office to stand before the slaver's desk. Garvey Lockheart, resplendent in lavender silk, smiled and accepted a thick file folder from the trainer that followed the guards and their captive into the room. He glanced through the paperwork before turning his attention to his latest acquisition. The man's peach robes denoting his status as an industrial slave were torn and stained, and hung from one pale shoulder in a ragged flap. His long black hair was a mass of greasy tangles, and his face, bruised and gaunt, held an expression that was at once contemptuous and mulish.

 

When the man spit at him, Garvey laughed. “Spirited, this one! Pity he's not much to look at.” Lockheart stepped around the desk to make a closer inspection. When the prissy slaver's perfectly manicured hand moved to grasp his chin, Severus lunged in an attempt to bite the offending appendage. One of the aurors, a large bearded blonde, backhanded the slave for his defiance.

 

“You have your work cut out for you with this one, eh, Garvey?” the trainer chuckled while picking imaginary lint from his navy pinstripe robes. Lockheart rolled his eyes. He didn't know why the buffoon was acting so smug, it wasn't as if Craven's best could handle the slave.

 

“Oh I shouldn't think so, and anyway, I do enjoy a good challenge.”

 

“Just tying your shoes should prove challenging enough for an imbecilic twit such as yourself!” Snape snarled, body exploding forward in an attempt to free himself of the rough hands restraining him.

 

Lockheart only tutted and sighed. “I think your first lesson is in order, slave.”

 

“As if you have anything of value to teach. I remember you from Hogwarts, Lockheart. You were a pusillanimous little toady who would wet himself in fear if anyone so much as looked at you! You were a miserable boy who barely passed his OWLS, and have grown into a pathetic man!” Severus smirked, knowing that his scathing comments hit their mark.

 

Lockheart's cheeks flushed an unattractive shade reminiscent of brick, and his left eye twitched, but he smiled anyway as if he and Snape were exchanging pleasantries at a cocktail party. “Hold him.” the effete man ordered, and the brawny men hastened to comply, piling on their weight and holding the lean Slytherin firmly in place.

 

“Now, slave, we will start with your first lesson.” Lockheart spun and stalked to his desk only to return with a heavy steel collar. “Hold his head, Withers!” The auror that struck Severus before wound his meaty fist in the slave's greasy hair and forced the man's head back.

 

Severus cursed and looked down his long nose at the slaver. “Fuck you, Lockheart!” he spat.

 

“Business before pleasure, slave.” Lockheart clasped the cold steel collar around Severus' throat with a flourish, then took hold of Severus' right wrist to better examine the bronze magic suppression cuff the slave wore. “This won't be necessary with the control collar, Matthews.” He gestured to the cuff and the trainer sidled over and removed the binding jewelry with a tap of his wand. Garvey nodded in approval and stepped back. “Now then, gentlemen, you can release him.”

 

As one, the aurors released their hold and retreated, watching the slave carefully in case he should attempt to attack anyone. Severus drew himself up to his full height and glared at those surrounding him only a moment before he attempted to remove the offensive collar. His fingers barely brushed the steel when he jerked them away with a hiss.

 

“Slaves mustn't remove any items from their persons that their Masters wish them to wear.” Garvey chided, then removed a small wooden box covered in runic carvings from the pocket of his robes. He gave the slave a vicious smile before pressing a golden rune on the top.

 

Severus felt every nerve in his body come alive with burning pain. His limbs shook and a scream was ripped from his throat as he fell to the floor in a spasmodic heap. Lockheart held his finger to the rune several moments more before finally relenting. Severus panted and tried not to vomit as waves of nausea washed over him with the cessation of pain.

 

Severus spent several weeks reenacting scenes much like that first. Lockheart would attempt to _instruct_ him, Severus would insult or try to attack the man, and the slaver would activate the collar. Then Severus would be thrown into a small dark cell for a few hours, only to be dragged out again to repeat the whole frustrating routine. He was fed little during that time and saw no one but Garvey and the half-mad house elf who brought him his meager meals.

 

Severus Snape was not a bloody slave! He was a free wizard who had dedicated his life to fighting dark forces. Albus was supposed to have left pensieve memories that would exonerate him once the war was over, so why wasn't he free? Why had the Ministry been allowed to convict him without a trial? Even if Albus' memories had been lost, surely the Potter brat would come forward with the memories Severus gave him. He had been especially nasty to the boy in school, but even he knew the boy was too damn honorable to allow an innocent man to be convicted of crimes he hadn't committed. The boy was neither petty nor vindictive. Potter's conscience would compel him to come forward on the spy's behalf.

 

Those were the thoughts that occupied Severus' mind when he awoke following the final battle in a ministry holding cell weak and gravely injured, and was informed of his fate. He hadn't learned the truth of the matter for several months. The world at large did know him to be innocent, but they also thought him to be one of the valorous dead. The Ministry, obviously, did not intend to dissuade them of that notion. He gained this intel from clandestine readings of issues of the Prophet salvaged from unattended trash bins. Potter did indeed speak for him, and displayed the precious memories to key officials, but it was not to gain his former professor's freedom. He did it to honor what he thought was a dead hero and to secure a posthumous Order of Merlin for his legacy.

 

The alleged corpse was neither grateful nor amused. It was after he read about the Order of Merlin award that he'd made his first escape attempt only to discover that while the guards at the training camp might be incompetent, the wards were not. Severus, however, was not to be deterred. No matter what they did to him at the camp, and later at Craven's, he would not accept slavery as his fate. He was strong, he was intelligent, he was cunning, and he would prevail.

 

Severus Snape was not a bloody slave! He had not broken before the Dark Lord, he had not broken when the only person he had ever loved was murdered by that psychopath, and he had not broken when for the greater good he'd been forced to end his mentor's life. He would not break for Garvey fucking Lockheart! He had suffered through pain curses before, and Lockheart's little box and collar weren't more potent than a well cast Crucio. They were somewhat weaker in fact. Severus would persevere as he always had.

 

Then one night a month after his admittance to Lockheart's domain, things changed. Garvey, perhaps sensing that Snape was made of sterner stuff than his usual chattel, introduced a new element to their routine.

 

“I'm beginning to tire of your obstinance, slave.” Garvey drawled, leaning against his desk and peering down at the man panting on the floor. Severus still wore the robes he'd arrived wearing, but they were little more than rags now, and pale bruised flesh peeked through the multitudinous tears that littered the ruined garment.

 

“I find myself disinclined to care.” Severus rasped, glaring up at the man.

 

Garvey's thin lips spread in a cool smile. “Yes, and perhaps that's part of the problem.” He crossed silk encased arms and raised on hand so he could tap his lip, a move Severus had come to realize meant the man was thinking. “I found myself at loose ends the other day, Severus.” The soft conversational tone the slaver was using made the supine slave wary, as did the use of his name. “So, I decided to better acquaint myself with your file. It made for interesting reading, I assure you. So very insightful, as well.”

 

“Do you actually have a point, Lockheart, or do you merely enjoy hearing your own voice to the extent that you feel compelled to spew inanities as a masturbatory exercise?”

 

Lockheart chuckled and picked up the collar control box from its place on his desk. “I was quite surprised to discover that you are an accomplished Occlumens. It's a rare skill, one I shouldn't expect to find in a school teacher.”

 

Severus narrowed his onyx eyes, wondering what the odious dandy had in store for him next. “I, unlike yourself, am a man of many talents, Lockheart.”

 

Garvey continued as if Severus had not spoken. “And it occurred to me, that an Occlumens might have certain advantages that would hinder my usual training methods. So, I said to myself, Garvey old boy, perhaps a new method is in order.” Lockheart held up the hated box and gave Severus a roguish wink. “You think little of me, Severus, I can tell. However, I am not as friendless as you appear to have been. I have many friends in places high, low, and in between. One of my friends, a very clever fellow indeed, has worked for the Department of Mysteries for years.”

 

Severus felt dread begin to build within him. He struggled to hoist himself up on his elbows to better look at the control box Lockheart was fondling. Something was different about it. There were more symbols etched into the damnable contraption, and these were painted in silver instead of the gold that covered the rest of the polished cherry surface.

 

“He has some interesting theories regarding Occlumency, and was eager to help me when I told him about my difficulties with you. It seems a gifted Occlumens can sometimes beat Veritaserum, did you know? It causes the Wizengamut problems when a known Occlumens comes to trial, not knowing if they are being entirely truthful even with the potion. The unspeakables have been researching a solution to the issue for a number of years but have had an unfortunate lack of test subjects.” Lockheart's smile widened. “So, he was kind enough to make a few adjustments to this control cube, and in return I will supply him with a detailed report of the results.”

 

Garvey's smooth hands stroked the surface of the box one last time before he jabbed one of the new silver markings in one savage gesture. Severus collapsed. What he felt wasn't pain, not precisely. He felt as though he'd plunged into an icy pool. The sensation stole the man's breath. His vision greyed as a high whining sound filled his ears. A cold sweat erupted on his tingling skin, and then, his head began to throb. Severus' thoughts lost their normal well ordered state and began to spin, lost in a chaotic vortex of memories and emotions. He could not process the strange stimulus coursing through him. Surely he must lose consciousness, but it just went on and on.

 

Some time later Severus' eyes fluttered as the grey mist that veiled his vision began to dissipate. The slave sucked in a long ragged breath. His chest burned as though he he had been deprived of air for an extended period. He licked his lips and tasted blood. Though his thoughts were not yet clear, he was becoming cognizant of the fact that he was soaked in a combination of blood, sweat, and urine. Severus felt an acute sense of embarrassment, something which he hadn't experienced in years. He blushed and heard a chuckle from somewhere above him.

 

“I must remember to send Terrance a nice bottle of Old Ogden's. That exceeded my expectations for our first session with the new features.”

 

Severus meant to deliver one of his standard sarcastic retorts, he really did, but all that would issue from his lips was a low moan. He squeezed his eyes shut and was further mortified when he realized he was crying.

 

Garvey tutted, a sound Severus had come to loathe, and stepped closer so that he could look directly down at the humbled creature on the floor. “Poor, poor slave. That _was_ a hard lesson, wasn't it?” A tingle of magic washed over Severus leaving a faint scent of lilac in its wake. After a moment he recognized it as a cleaning charm. “I think now you are finally ready for the next step in your training.”

 

Severus opened his eyes and glared at the hateful slaver. Lockheart sighed in response and flicked his wand. Cool air tickled the slave's skin and Severus snarled at the man's audacity. He moved to cover himself and preserve his modesty which prompted Garvey to press the blasted box once more.

 

This time when the grey mist receded Severus lay still. He was rewarded with another cleaning charm, but thought it poor coinage for his dignity.

 

“Now, slave, stand up.” Lockheart commanded, sounding almost bored. Severus decided it was less exhausting to stand than to fight. He really didn't think he could take another session with the cursed box and collar at present. After two aborted attempts, Severus was sitting with his eyes shut and his head cradled in his hands, encouraging the room to stop spinning. “Don't keep me waiting, slave. You won't like the consequences.”

 

With a great deal of effort, Severus hauled himself to his feet and stood swaying. Garvey stared at him with a critical eyes, assessing the raw material. The man frowned then stepped forward to run his powder smooth hands over Severus' body.

 

“Well you're solid enough, I suppose, but there is a lot of room for improvement. I'll turn you over to the fitness master in due time to tone up a few areas. Time with the stylist wouldn't be amiss either. We'll have to see once you're further along in your training.”

 

Severus grimaced. He couldn't help it. He felt like the man was preparing him for a dog show. He wasn't far off the mark.

 

“Do you know why they sent you to me, Severus?” Garvey nudged him with his gleaming wingtip boot prompting Severus to answer.

 

The slave swallowed heavily and whispered, “No.”

 

“You are a very stubborn man, Severus, but I am more so. I do not fail. I have turned the most bull-headed individuals into perfectly tractable slaves and it usually takes me less than a year to do it. They see me as a miracle worker. That's why you are here, though physically you are not what one looks for in a pleasure slave.”

 

Severus eyes went wide and he looked at the man with undisguised horror. He was weakened and could not reign in his emotions. “No,” he whispered again. “I will not...”

 

Lockheart offered him an oily, satisfied smile. “Oh, but you will, Severus.” The man sat on his desk and once more stroked the rune covered box. “I don't waste my time on household and industrial slaves. The profits margins are too narrow. No. What I do is train the finest pleasure slaves in Britain. I have traveled far and wide studying the art of breaking and training slaves.” A rune was pressed and Severus felt strange shivers dance down his spine. “I have worked in the lowest brothels of the Middle East, and the grandest pleasure palaces of Asia, and I took what I learned from each, and honed a technique that delivers perfect results. Every time. You may not think yourself capable of it now, but I assure you, Severus, in time you will serve just as perfectly, just as faithfully, as all those who came before you.”

 

Severus shook his head, trembling in combined rage and pleasure from the shivering magic the collar was unleashing. “I would rather die!” he managed to snarl. He felt himself becoming aroused and tears of anger and humiliation sprung unbidden from his eyes. Snape wasn't sure what the new control magic had done to him, but he knew it had left him with next to no self-control.

 

“I'm sure you think that now.” Garvey waved his wand and Severus was frozen in place, unable to move anything but his now overly expressive eyes. “But that will change, and you'll feel better once it does.” Garvey stroked Severus' turgid flesh and looked at the organ with appreciation. “This at least is worthy of a top notch pleasure slave. Not many customers come here wanting a slave to bugger them, but there are always a few, and when they do, whether man or woman, they like something substantial for their gold.”

 

Lockheart stopped his ministrations and pulled what appeared to be a scrap of leather from his pocket. In a thrice he'd taken Severus' traitorous cock back in hand and secured the leather around the base and balls, cinching the ring painfully tight.

 

The slaver began to circle Severus. “A slave's purpose, is to provide pleasure for their Master. A slave's pleasure is secondary and unimportant. You must always be hard and ready when your Master commands it. You may only come when your Master allows it. To seek pleasure for yourself against your Master's wishes will earn you punishment. Your thoughts and desires do not matter. _You_ do not matter.”

 

Lockheart stopped in front of the slave and cast another spell at the frozen man. Severus glowed white causing Garvey to throw his head back and laugh. “A virgin! At your age!”

 

Severus flushed and closed his eyes. Yes. He was a virgin. Who was there for him? An unattractive Death Eater spy? There was no one. He'd never dated. Never been kissed, even, if you discounted the few pecks on the cheek he received from his mother and Lily during his green years.

 

“That just won't do!” Lockheart rang the silver bell he kept on his desk and whispered something to little elf that answered his call. “We need to step up the pace of your training since you are so far behind. Usually there is at least _some_ sexual experience to draw from.” The man chuckled and patted Severus' cheek. “No wonder you've been so surly.”

 

Severus decided he hated Garvey Lockheart every bit as much as he'd hated the Dark Lord. What he wouldn't give to have his wand and a few hours to teach the simpering fool the true meaning of pain.

 

“You're thinking naughty thoughts, aren't you, Severus? Things a slave shouldn't be thinking about his Master.” Garvey clucked like a demented mother hen. “I have a sixth sense for such things. But, no matter. We'll soon have your thoughts directed where they should be. But first...”

 

Garvey left Severus' line of sight, and he head a cupboard being opened somewhere behind him. The sounds of metallic items clinking and shifting against one another filled the room. He didn't know what the man was looking for, but Severus was sure it couldn't be good.

 

“Ah! Here we are. A bit more than I'd normally use on a beginner, but I'm certain you'll appreciate it later.” Lockheart's voice drew closer as he spoke and finally he felt the man's hands touch his buttocks. “I do know that you're entirely too hairy. Some may find that attractive, but it hardly sells here. Hmm, no. We won't wait for the stylist for this.”

 

A murmured incantation sent magic racing over his skin. If he could have screamed, Severus would have, as he felt every hair below his neckline ripped from his body at once. More tears. More humiliation. So what if he'd been a bit hirsute, most men weren't bothered by the amount of hair on their bodies. He was no prepubescent boy.

 

“There. Nice and smooth. Much more aesthetically pleasing, especially with that pale skin of yours.”

 

Garvey ran his hands over Snape's denuded backside, humming under his breath. Severus could have sobbed. Every inch of his skin felt raw from the depilatory spell the sadist used on him. The humming tapered off and he heard Garvey spit.

 

Severus had only a moment to think, “What the hell?” when he felt something cold, wet, and tapered pressed between his cheeks and against his anus. The invading object was pushed with even pressure through the ring of guardian muscles without pause. The pain of the intrusion was enormous. The flesh seemed to stretch and stretch as the metal instrument widened. Severus, even in the haze of previously unimaginable pain, felt sure his arse would rip at any moment. Then the object narrowed again and came to rest.

 

“Good. And no tearing either. Very good.” Lockheart sounded pleased as he stepped around the magically restrained slave and back into the man's field of view. “Congratulations, Severus. You've been fitted with your very first anal plug. Feels a bit strange to you, I'm sure, but it's entirely necessary. You will be thankful for it later when you take your first cock.”

 

When a knock sounded on the door, Garvey smiled and called out, “Come in!”

 

“Mister Lockheart. Sorry it took so long, sir, we had a bit of work to do on unit ninety-nine. Misterr Kinsey was a bit too enthusiastic with her and tore a ligament in her wrist. He broke skin in a few places too. I'd recommend fining him, sir. He does it too frequently and has been warned.” a sweet feminine voice spoke from the door.

 

“I'll make at note of is Miss Carter. He is otherwise a good customer, but... I don't like seeing my property damaged like that. I suppose ninety-nine will be out of commission then?”

 

“The healer said two days rest, sir.” a deep masculine voice, almost familiar to Severus in its timbre, answered the slaver.

 

Lockheart sighed and waved the unseen people into the room. “This is our newest unit. He's a bit recalcitrant, so I've been attending to his training personally.”

 

“Just been fitted with his first plug?” the woman asked. Garvey nodded and he felt a small hand stroke his bottom. “Nice arse, at least. Bit skinny though.”

 

“Yes, and not so handsome a face, I'm afraid. But, I'm committed to training him, so we'll have to make the best of it.” The three free people shared a rueful laugh. “I am going out of town on business this coming week, so I need you two to take over his training during that time. He's just going into the second phase. Accelerate the pace when possible. I want him broken, and soon.”

 

“Any restrictions, sir?” The still unseen man queried.

 

“I've made some modifications to this one's control unit. I'll explain those later so please avoid using the silver command runes. Stick to gold. He's tested white, so heavy emphasis on the sexual training, but use the advanced healing spells and a tightening charm after every session. This one's too proud, so I want every session to feel like his first. That should suitably humble him. Remove the cock ring every other session. We want to avoid permanent damage, but I want him punished if he comes without permission when it's off.” Garvey rattled off his instructions with mechanical efficiency.

 

“Noted, sir. Are we cleared for using the swing?” the female purred. “And the training wand?”

 

Lockheart hummed and tapped his lip. “By all means use the swing, but not the training wand. It might interfere with the modified collar controls. We'll save that for after he's broken. Now I just want him to acclimate to being taken. We can increase his stamina and worry about teaching him finesse later.”

 

Severus was panicking listening to Lockheart and his employees, and trying desperately to sink his consciousness behind his mental shields, but he couldn't quite manage it. The irascible Slytherin was wishing now he'd behaved at the Ministry camp and just resigned himself to brewing potions unpaid for the rest of his life.

 

“When you say you want him to acclimate...” the unseen man began.

 

“He needs to be used well and often, so if you feel yourself flagging, Flint, call in some of the other trainers, but monitor their work. I also suggest gagging him. He's proven himself a biter.”

 

“Yes, sir. You can count on us.”

 

Severus woke with a start, nearly slipping off the bath ledge. His worst dreams used to feature Voldemort in all his gruesome glory, now though, his first months at Lockheart's held that dubious honor. The slave dunked his head under the water and then began to shampoo his hair with vigor as if he could scour the memories from his mind. If only he could.

 

The shock he had felt at being handed off by Lockheart to be raped by an ex-student had been extreme. Marcus Flint, a boy he had privately tutored on several occasions to get the struggling young Slytherin through Transfiguration, and a student he had thought well enough of to bestow upon him the House Quidditch Captaincy despite his less than exemplary grades, was the man who took Severus' virginity. And he had not been gentle about it.

 

Strapped in a web of rough, chaffing, dragon hide straps suspended from the ceiling of a dank basement room, Severus hung limp, drugged to the gills on aphrodisiac potions, while the young slave trainer forced himself deep into the slave's body with abandon. Even with the potions' haze clouding his mind, Severus recalled a great deal about that first time.

 

He remembered the female trainer forcing a large rubber phallus shaped gag into his mouth and pulling his hair when he tried to fight it. The stink of the thick greasy lube the young man used to slick his large prick before fucking him. The way it tingled and burned. The way Marcus grunted with each thrust, his spotty face sheened with sweat. The shame he felt for enjoying when the woman levitated herself onto his own burgeoning cock and rode him in counterpoint to Flint's thrusts. Moaning around the gag from the mingled pleasure and pain. How they laughed at him.

 

His second session was even worse. The punishment he received for ejaculating the moment they removed the cock ring still haunted him. A seemingly endless stream of trainers used his body while Marcus whipped him, and the red haired woman, Carter, tortured his cock and balls with a broad array of instruments. How many times had he been restrained and violated? Severus lost count.

 

Then the woman removed his gag and asked if he wouldn't like something to eat. She gave him a sip of water and petted his sweat soaked hair while Marcus undid the straps of the dreadful swing and lowered him to the floor. When she stood astride him, nude, riding crop in hand and eyebrow raised in question, Severus knew what she was asking; why she removed the gag and what she wanted him to do. He knew that he could submit and possibly be given food and rest, or he could continue his rebellion and receive further punishment.

 

He tried to remain strong, he really did, but whatever malefic magic the Unspeakable wove into the control cube rendered him defenseless. He was so very weary. Exhausted in mind, body, and soul. In the end, just as Lockheart predicted, Severus broke.

 


	6. Body and Soul

When Severus exited the bath clad in the dove grey silk pajamas, Harry greeted him with a smile and ushered him to a small table set for two in the sitting room. He sat in the indicated chair closest to the fire and awaited further instructions.

 

Harry gifted him with another of his devastating smiles before tilting his head to one side. “I hope you like Greek food. Winky has recently discovered foreign cuisine and has been experimenting with the menu. Last month she was on a Mexican kick.”

 

Severus eyed the lamb and stuffed grape leaves with undisguised curiosity. He was unfamiliar with the dish. “I'm not a picky eater, Master. I'm sure I will enjoy it.” And that was the truth. A slave didn't have the luxury of having preferences when it came to sustenance. He considered any meal when he received more than porridge or simple soup a veritable feast.

 

Harry frowned a bit at Severus's use of the honorific, but let it pass. “Well, Winky's cooking is always good, so let's dig in shall we?”

 

The food wasn't good. It was bloody brilliant. If Severus had tasted anything more delicious than that meal in his life, he couldn't remember it. The flavors were bold, piquant, and multifaceted. The lamb was so tender as to seemingly melt in his mouth with each bite, and the stuffed grape leaves defied description. Severus only knew that the mixture of greens, rice, and zesty feta cheese that filled the leaves made for an amazing combination of flavor and texture he would not soon forget.

 

White wine accompanied the exotic repast, and Severus was only just able to stifle the moan of appreciation when the pale golden liquid hit his pallet. It was cool, crisp, and contained hints of ripe apples and pears. He meant to sip and savor the ambrosial drink, but drained his glass faster than was strictly polite. Harry, congenial young man that he was, merely refilled Severus' glass without comment.

 

Dessert was yet again a surprise. The deceptively simple looking confection of nuts, honey, and flaky layered pastry was sweet, but mellow, and pleasing to the tongue. Severus could easily see the dish becoming a favorite. It would be delightful to have for breakfast with a strong cup of coffee.

 

Severus offered his Master a genuine smile along with his heartfelt thanks. “Thank you, M... Harry. That was wonderful.” he said, patting his lips with his serviette.

 

“I'll be sure to pass that along to Winky. She is always pleased when people enjoy one of her experiments.” The young man leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his wine. “And I'll definitely have her lay in a supply of this wine. Would you care for another glass, Severus?”

 

Severus blushed when he realized he had finished his second glass just as quickly as his first. He felt pleasantly warm, and a bit tipsy. Thankfully Harry didn't seem at all displeased. If anything the young man seemed disposed to being indulgent to his new slave. Plying Severus with the delightful wine and epicurean feast. Finding delight in the simple enjoyment the older man had of their repast.

 

“I... yes, one more, if that is alright, Harry?” Severus requested, eyes shyly, almost demurely, downcast.

 

“Of course.” Harry poured for him, then leaned forward when the bottle was placed aside, and rested his elbows on the table once he was done, intently watching Severus drink what was given him. The play of muscles in his throat as he swallowed. The way the wine left the man's lips moist and glistening in the firelight. Harry shook his head and looked away, discomfited by the ridiculously easy way he had become infatuated with his former professor.

 

“Harry, will you... will you be claiming me now?” Severus asked, voice laden with anxiety as his fingers fidgeted with the stem of his glass. It was difficult for him to be so forward, but his mind would rest easier if he knew how they were going to proceed.

 

Harry bestowed what he hoped was a reassuring smile on the man, and reached out to still his restless fingers. Severus blushed once again and stared at his lap.

 

“Is that what you want, Severus? We have another twenty hours or so to take care of that if you aren't ready.” Harry answered, making sure to keep his voice even and light and quell the man's nervousness. “I want to be certain you're entirely comfortable.”

 

Severus seemed unable to answer, and unwilling to meet Harry's frank gaze. Part of him wanted to beg his new master to claim him, and another wanted to run and hide. He was still rather confused by the feelings that Harry had awakened in him with his tender care.

 

“Severus.” Harry's voice was soft, but Severus was startled nonetheless. Harry was now standing beside him. He hadn't notice the younger man leave his seat and move closer. “Let's just go to sleep now, alright? It will be fine. The claiming ritual can wait until tomorrow. We have plenty of time.”

 

Harry's hand came into his field of vision causing Severus to finally direct his gaze away from his lap and toward the handsome young man. His master was offering a hand up. The expression on his face was understanding, and Severus was able to take the proffered appendage and stand.

 

Harry led him into the bedroom, and turned back the covers for him. At his master's gesture Severus climbed into the massive bower, and attempted to get comfortable as he watched Harry fetch his own sleepwear from a nearby wardrobe and begin to change in front of him, displaying not an ounce of self-consciousness. Each item of clothing he removed was discarded in a hamper located conveniently by the wardrobe. He turned away only when he stripped off his smalls and shimmied into a pair of well worn blue cotton sleep pants. He finished by pulling an old gray t-shirt over his head.

 

Severus looked between his master's unassuming attire, and the expensive borrowed silk pajamas from Lucius, and back again several times, trying to comprehend Harry supplying finer garments for his slaves than he kept for himself. The young man was a complete enigma.

 

“Is this alright with you, Severus?” he asked. “I usually sleep naked, but I thought this would be better for tonight. So you don't feel any pressure.”

 

Struck dumb Severus could only nod. Harry smiled at him and then joined him in bed. The bedding was settled over them, and a silent nox doused the lights. Severus lie on his back, stiff as a poker, staring up into the darkness as he listened to the sound of his own breath in his ears. It seemed unnaturally loud in the large bedchamber.

 

With a rustle of fabric strong arms encircled him and pulled him close against his master's body. It felt warm, welcoming, and gratifyingly solid. Severus allowed himself to relax when warm lips pressed a kiss against his temple, and gentle hands guided his head to rest on Harry's broad chest. Cuddled close to the young man, his chaotic thoughts finally coalesced into coherency for the first time in what seemed like forever. He realized what he had been unable to accept earlier in the evening. He was safe here. He would be cared for. He nuzzled closer to his benefactor. Gentle fingers began to card through his hair, and the steady rhythm of Harry's heart, combined with the alcohol he imbibed, lulled him to sleep.

 

Severus woke to confusion hours later. He felt warm, and was held snug by strong arms in a comfortable cocoon of luxurious linens. All was quiet save the sounds of his bed-mate’s breathing. Everything smelled fresh and clean, and the bed was so soft that he knew at once he was not at Lockheart's.

 

He almost panicked before sleep finally let loose its tenuous grip on his mind, and he remembered all that had passed. He was still secure in his master's bed, and for a moment he hadn't a clue to why he was awake. Then his bladder made its need known, and he realized what had woken him. After all that lovely wine he needed the loo. At Lockheart's the trainers would use medical grade charms on the chattel twice a day which took care of such needs for them, and Severus has almost forgotten the peculiar sensation of a full bladder.

 

He could not ignore the urge he felt, or he would foul his master's bed, and disgrace himself. He waffled over whether he should wake his master and request the charm, or if he should simply slip out of bed and make use of the facilities for long moments, unsure of the best course of action. Severus's eyes were now adjusted to the lack of light, and seeing his master in his peaceful repose made the decision for him. He carefully disentangled himself from Harry's arms and the blankets, then slowly padded his way to the bathroom, taking pains to navigate the unfamiliar room in the dark. Harry allowed him to bathe himself, so surely going to the loo on his own was not too great a liberty to assume.

 

Call to nature heeded, Severus made it back to bed in only a few short minutes, and made to climb back in.

 

“Severus?” Harry's sleep muzzy voice questioned. “Everything alright?”

 

“Yes, Master. I only went to the loo.”

 

“'kay.”

 

Severus slid close to the young man once more, though considering the size of the bed it was hardly necessary. He looked at Harry in the pale silver light of predawn seeping through the curtains, and felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. He looked angelic in sleep. Severus brushed a wayward lock of hair from Harry's forehead, then before he could talk himself out of it, leaned down and placed a kiss on the faded scar beneath. Dark lashes fluttered on his master's cheeks, and then the lids raised to reveal the vivid emerald eyes they'd been shielding.

 

“Sev?” he queried, voice rough with sleep. One hand rose and cupped the Slytherin's cheek. The feather light touch of a lover. Sweet and sensitive, like the young man himself.

 

“Claim me now, please, Master.” was his breathy reply.

 

Harry hummed and withdrew his hand so he could raise himself up on his elbows and look Severus in the eye. Emerald locked with Onyx for long moments before Harry nodded his acquiescence, and then closed the distance between them to claim the older man's lips with his own.

 

It had been an eternity since Severus had been kissed, and never like this. The rare occurrences at Lockheart's were demanding, rough, and punishing endeavors filled with biting teeth. Afterward his lips were invariably left bruised and bleeding. What Harry was doing to him was something else entirely; soft and languid, the young man took his time. Severus opened his mouth, their breath mingled, and then his master's tongue slipped between his lips to stroke and coax his own into joining the sinuous dance.

 

With a sigh Severus lie back against the pillows. Harry followed him down, covering him with his body, and the older man was surprised to find the weight a pleasant addition to their activities instead of oppressive. Harry's lips continued to encourage his own, and the sweetness of the moment seemed to stretch into infinity. A tingle of magic rippled over their skin banishing their clothing, and he felt the hot press of his master's flesh against his own. Only then did Harry abandon his mouth and move his explorations further afield, disappearing under the covers as he slithered down his body.

 

With Harry as his intrepid guide Severus discovered that to have the skin just below his ear licked made him shiver in delight, and that someone sucking at his Adam's apple made his cock harden and throb without being touched. Nibbling on his nipples made his hips buck, and elicited a deep groan. A sinful combination of playful nips and licks at his navel caused him to grasp the sheets in his fist, and squeeze his eyes closed to better savor the unexpected pleasure.

 

And for a wonder, pleasurable it was. For the first time he found he could enjoy the sensations of sex without the aid of an aphrodisiac potion, or specialized charmed implements like the training wand, and it was like a precious gift. Each new sensation was accepted, and cataloged away for later examination as he strove to stay present in each moment. Harry was doing this for him; making his body sing. It was electric, and they were still only engaging in foreplay.

 

His young master seemed determined to acquaint himself with each and every erogenous zone on his slave's body before he would even think of initiating intercourse, and Severus finally understood the difference between fucking and making love. For all of his sexual education these past years, that there actually was a difference never occurred to him before. He had a great deal of experience with the former, but this was his first taste of the latter, and as far as he could tell it was far superior.

 

When he murmured his appreciation he felt Harry smile against his abdomen and then nuzzle his face against him rather like a cat. Severus shivered as Harry threw back the covers and cool air washed over their heated skin. The young man maneuvered himself lower, nudging Severus's legs apart so he could rest between them, and continue his delectable ministrations.

 

Next came the miracle of Harry's velvety tongue tracing his hardened length from root to tip, and then using the slick appendage to encircle the head just under the corona. When Harry took the glans fully in his mouth and began to suckle the sensitive flesh, ever so lightly, Severus buried his hands in the young man's unruly mane. His master withdrew and blew across the tip. Severus opened his legs further as his hips strained upwards, seeking more contact, silently begging for more. Harry's hands pressed his hips back to the mattress and braced them there, and then his mouth returned to its previous occupation, enveloping more of Severus's erection. The tongue swirled and teased with every upstroke, and he paused occasionally at the top to gently nip and suck at the foreskin where it bunched against the frenulum, before diving back down until his nose almost met his partner's taut abdomen. Each move wrung cries of gratitude and approbation from the once taciturn former potions master, especially when Harry released his hip with one hand and began cupping and rolling his balls as well, then began mouthing the heavy flesh he found there as well.

 

Severus was himself experienced in performing fellatio, but the techniques taught at Lockheart's establishment were nothing compared to this. Those lessons focused on learning to relax his throat, and allowing his mouth to be used as a convenient receptacle. Those who used him in that way generally held his face in a bruising grip, and then fucked his mouth as fast and hard as they could. There was no skill to it. No finesse. It wasn't needed in that hellhole. All that was required was control over one's gag reflex. Lockheart's customers came to dominate and brutalize those who could not resist or deny their most deviant requests. What Harry was doing elevated oral sex to an art form. He was so far lost in the near orgiastic bliss that he didn't even notice when his master wandlessly summoned a vial of oil, and used it to massage his perineum and arse.

 

Harry released the Slytherin's cock with a wet pop, and waited a moment before taking the next step. The older man was surprised to find that dawn was upon them when he opened his eyes. The bedchamber was filled with warm light that painted their skin golden. Harry grinned up at him, and ran his hands up and down Severus's parted thighs. All the older man could do was pant and stare at the gorgeous creature that was caressing him.

 

“H- harry?” he rasped, befuddled as to why they had stopped. Harry's grin gentled into an almost beatific smile, and he pressed a reassuring kiss to Severus's inner thigh.

 

“Are you ready to go further?” the young man asked.

 

“Please.” Severus entreated. He wouldn't stop his master for anything in the world. He had long desired to know how it felt to be taken by someone who wasn't aiming to cause him as much pain as they could. He knew Harry would show him how good it could be.

 

Oil slicked fingers returned to massaging his most intimate area, circling slowly before one digit pressed carefully inside. The guardian ring of muscle drew it in, so relaxed that Severus felt not a twinge of pain. Harry twisted his hand and allowed his finger to withdraw. He added more oil and pressed back inside using two fingers. Severus moaned and pushed against the intrusion, thinking manual preparation was much more enjoyable than a quick stretching spell. His anus tingled from the special oil Harry was using, which was entirely new to him. So much better than the thick grease-like lube to which he had become accustomed.

 

Harry thrust his fingers then, the pace agonizingly slow; twisting and scissoring as he did so. When he found Severus's prostrate the man sobbed, and a small stream of cum trickled from the tip of the man's glistening cock. Harry eased up on the pressure, but lapped up the offering with obvious relish, then licked the remnants from his reddened lips. The casual sensuality of the action was almost Severus's undoing.

 

“Master,” he sighed, “Please!”

 

“Almost time, Sev.” was Harry's husky reply. “Just a little longer.”

 

Another finger joined its brothers. When the young man wriggled and spread them Severus couldn't help but whimper. It felt wonderful, but if his master didn't finish preparing him soon, he knew he would begin to beg in earnest. Despite his unfamiliarity with the feeling, Severus's surrender to this new wantonness was absolute.

 

For Harry, the scene in which they were engaged was one of heightened eroticism. He knew only too well how pleasure slaves were usually treated, and he was resolute that his claiming of Severus Snape would not remind the man of any of his past encounters. In hopes of preserving the fragile trust they had built between them thus far, Harry was handling the older man like a virgin. He restrained his passion, and took pains to be careful in everything he did. The way Severus responded to him was a thing of beauty. He would treasure his memories of their liaison always. Every gasp, every cry. Every shuddering breath committed permanently to memory.

 

“I think you're ready for me now.” was uttered in a languorous susurration.

 

“Yes,” Severus mewled, “Gods, yes.” He was more than ready.

 

Harry crawled backwards to the foot of the bed, and slid off so he could stand. He crooked a finger, causing Severus to eagerly scoot down so he was sitting on the very edge, and drank in the glorious view his new position afforded. His master stood before him, unashamed in his nudity, for Severus to look his fill. The young man's body was beautifully sculpted, honed by years of Quidditch and dueling. A light smattering of dark hair dusted his pectorals, and an intriguing line grew down from his navel, drawing Severus's attention to the lovely cock which stood at attention from the nest it formed there. His master's organ was not as long as his own, but it was wonderfully thick, with a slight upward curve. The tip was cherry red. His balls, large and full, rested high, and Severus understood that though his master was yet untouched by him, he was just as aroused, just as close to the edge. On a whole the image he presented was mouthwatering.

 

“You can touch me if you want, Severus.” Harry murmured as he observed the expression of wonder on the slave's face. “Do whatever you like.” He tucked a strand of Severus's hair behind his ear, then gave him a lingering kiss which curled the older man's toes.

 

With a trembling hand Severus reached out to run his fingers through the hair on his master's chest. It was softer than he expected. His own body hair, when he'd had it, was much coarser, and grew denser by far. His fingers traced one dusky pink nipple. With a quick glance at Harry's face to gauge his reaction, Severus dared a gentle pinch. Harry gasped and shivered at the touch. Severus tried to snatch his hand away, but Harry caught his wrist and guided it back.

 

“It's alright. It felt good, Severus.” He kissed the man again and whispered, “I meant what I said. Do whatever you like.”

 

Severus toyed with Harry's nipples a bit more, eliciting a lovely deep groan, then allowed his hands to drift lower to caress the young man's stomach. Harry's abdominals were more defined than his own, and his ghosting fingers made them flex. Severus smiled and followed the trail of hair lower. The young man's endowment felt hot and thick in his hand, and twitched as he gave it an experimental stroke. Harry buried his face in his shoulder, and let out a strangled breath.

 

“Sev.” the young man whined. “Want you.”

 

“I'm ready.”

 

“I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you.” Harry placed his hands on Severus's chest and pushed him to lie down. He summoned the vial of oil from where he'd left it by the pillows, uncorked it, and liberally coated his length. The excess he used to slick over Severus's turgid flesh.

 

“Master.” Severus gasped and arched into the touch.

 

“Harry, Severus. My name is Harry.” the young man instructed as he grasped the older mans thighs and pushed them up and apart. “Please say it.”

 

Severus felt the blunt head of his master's cock press against his entrance, and then slip inside his body in one smooth languid thrust, coming to rest firmly against that sweet spot deep within.

 

“Harry!” he sobbed from the pleasure of the moment. The fullness he felt was perfect. There was no burn. No tearing pain. Just pure, unadulterated pleasure. It was if they were made to fit together in this way. Two pieces of a mysterious puzzle, finally solved.

 

“Yes. Let go, Sev. Just feel.”

 

And feel he did. Heat and tingling magic moved between them. Became part of them. Harry grasped his cock and began to stroke in counterpoint to his thrusts. He was unhurried in his movements. Steady, and sure as he slowly built the momentum between them. So many feelings washed over Severus that he feared he would be overwhelmed by it all. But through it all, there was Harry, and there was the perfect pleasure they were sharing. So good. _So right_.

 

Every inch of him was hyper aware of Harry now. Of his every movement. He felt every single inch of Harry's erection piercing his body. Each thrust brushing over his prostate, causing a kaleidoscope of colors to explode and dance every time he shut his eyes. The slap of Harry's balls against him at the bottom of every thrust. The way his hole quivered and grasped at the glorious flesh invading his body. The firm hand stroking his cock. The pressure of Harry's other hand gripping his hip to hold him in place.

 

“Harry! Harry!” he called out, his tone begging, but for what he did not know.

 

“Severus!” Gods!” Harry sounded as desperate as he.

 

He opened his eyes and looked up at his master. The young man was gritting his teeth, an expression of near pain on the handsome face as he fought to stave off the inevitable orgasm, even as he continued on with every maddening languid thrust. They locked eyes. The sounds of their love making battled for dominance with the beating of Severus's heart.

 

“Harry I'm so close.” he sobbed, never wanting the moment to end, even as he desired the impending climax with all of his being.

 

Harry's nod was his only reply. He removed his hand from Severus's hip, and placed it instead over the older man's heart. Severus felt the magic in the room swirl and increase in intensity. The bond was imminent.

 
    
    
    “Ego dici tibi. Ego dici tibi corpus et animam.” Harry managed to grind out the words, struggling to maintain his rythm. “Ego dici tibi. Meus es tu!”
    
    With a final shout Harry came, and collapsed over Severus's body. His arms instinctively wrapped around the older man as he rode out his orgasm. Severus felt the warmth of Harry's seed flood his body, and the twitching aftershocks within him triggered his own orgasm. 
    
    “Tuus sum.” Severus whispered, then pressed a kiss to Harry's brow. 
    
    It was done. Severus Snape belonged to Harry Potter. Body and Soul.  

 


	7. An Unconventional Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter contains a scene involving incest between father and son. If this squicks you out, you might want to skip reading this chapter.

“Oh when are they getting up?” Draco whined, for perhaps the tenth time in the past hour. “I want to see Uncle Severus.”

 

The youth paced up and down the length of the drawing room, restless as a caged tiger. He had been like this since Potter brought Severus home the night before.

 

“They no doubt had an exhausting evening, Draco. They will rise when they are ready.” Lucius replied, tone as even as he could manage, considering how much his son was beginning to get on his nerves this morning. “And do stop whining. It's unbecoming.”

 

He picked up that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet and began to peruse the financial section, ignoring his son's pout. There were some new stock options Lucius wanted Harry to consider adding to his ever growing portfolio.

 

Draco Malfoy had never been the patient type, and his father lamented that he never managed to train that particular character flaw out of his son during childhood. Lucius blamed the Black blood in his son's veins for his impulsiveness, and the shameless way Narcissa had indulged the child's every whim when he was small. Not that he hadn't pampered his son as well, but he at least had set some limits and boundaries. He supposed it was too late to correct those issues now, and truly, Lucius wouldn't want Draco any other way; flaws and all. He was very simply, Draco, and from Lucius's rather biased perspective, it only added to the boy's charm.

 

The elder Malfoy also found it amusing that he still regarded his wayward son as a boy, while he fully acknowledged that their master – who was at least a month younger – was very much a man. _C'est la vie_ , he thought, and relegated that subject to the furthest reaches of his mind, where it belonged. All things considered it would be madness not to do so.

 

He had learned to accept the good things life brought him, and let the rest go. Lucius thought his life would be rather short and miserable when he was informed he would be enslaved. He didn't foresee either he or Draco doing well in such a situation. Both far too dominant.

 

The relief he felt when he learned that he and Draco would be sent to the same training facility evaporated the first time he was forced to watch a trainer torture his son, while he stood by, bound and helpless. During those dark days it would have been impossible for him to decide which was more cruel, being separated from his son, or watching his son being beaten and brutalized on a daily basis.

 

The only solace he felt were those all too brief moments of respite when they would huddle together in their dark cell between training sessions. He remembered the first time Draco kissed him. The way his lithe young son climbed into his lap and took possession of his father's mouth as though it were the most natural thing in the world. In shock, Lucius allowed it at first, might have even pulled the boy closer, until his mind caught up with his body, and he forced himself to gently push his son away.

 

Draco pouted for hours when he told him to never do such a thing again. It was a scene to be repeated often during their time at the training facility. The conditioning they underwent pushed Draco to become almost hyper-sexual, and in his confusion – Lucius was sure it _must_ have begun as confusion – the boy latched onto the most comforting figure available to him. His father. He was always a Daddy's boy. Despite all of his mother's lavish spoiling, it was always to his father he ran. This time, to Draco at lease, was no different.

 

Eventually Lucius could no longer withstand the tears staining his son's cheeks when his father rebuffed his advances. Draco wore him down, like he did when he was little and desired a new broom, or toy, or trinket. Finally, there came a day when Lucius was weary from the training regimen, lack of nourishment, and the oppressive darkness of their cell. When Draco clung to him, and whispered, _Daddy_ , Lucius pulled him close and let him have his way. After all, Draco was all he had left. Narcissa was dead, and all of his friends and acquaintances were in the same position as he and his son. What once would have been repellent to him, now became his only comfort.

 

Lucius had thought, when they were first brought to Potter's household, that Draco's interest in him would wane. But the boy continued to pursue his affections, first at the dreary London town house, and later here at the villa. He knew Draco desired Harry, but surprisingly their master didn't take what was readily on offer. The man seemed to have no interest in dallying with either of his pleasure slaves, despite the passion he lavished on them during their claiming ritual. Lucius shivered at the memory of that night. He was not a man whose natural inclinations led him to desire other men, but those hours spent in Harry Potter's bed had been some of the hottest he'd ever enjoyed. If Potter beckoned, he doubted he would deny his master anything.

 

They were not treated as sexual objects by Potter, no matter what their legal status in his home, and that in and of itself is what fostered the elder Malfoy's initial respect for the man. That respect only deepened when he came to know and appreciate Potter's keen mind and shrewd business sense. Why Lucius had ever believed Harry Potter to be deficient in cunning or intelligence was a great mystery. He should have known better. Look at how Harry bested him when he was still but a stripling of twelve. He supposed his once fragile ego was to blame for his obtuseness. He was a Malfoy. No one bests a Malfoy, therefor it had to have been mere luck. _Such foolishness._

 

Who else besides Harry and his cohorts would have the fortitude to continually defy the ministry's slave mandates? First in the courtroom, and then by purchasing as many slaves as he could afford to protect them from the miserable life the laws proscribed. It did not matter that the majority were his former enemies.

 

Potter found slavery abhorrent, and so did what he could to alleviate the suffering of those enslaved. Lucius knew, because Harry told him, that the young man could hardly wait until his twenty-fifth birthday so he could take up his dormant seats on the Wizengamut, and work on abolishing the slave codes once and for all. He had three waiting on him; the inherited Potter and Black seats, as well as the one he earned with his Order of Merlin. It would be an uphill battle, one he might not win, but he would give it his all.

 

Five of the man's estates overflowed with what equated to slave colonies. Large groups living in what comfort and freedom Potter could give them, with several of his friends in residence to fulfill the required custodial supervision specified in the laws. Potter provided the funds, and his custodians purchased those that they believed capable of living in the strange little communities Potter founded. And each community had some form of industry that everyone contributed to, with the funds being funneled back for communal use.

 

So far Potter's little empire included agriculture, textiles, animal husbandry, enchanting, and broom production. The last was Harry's pet project. The Lightning Strike was the newest broom on the market, and was fast clawing its way up the ranks. Comets and Cleansweeps couldn't hold a candle to the LS 100, and Harry was determined that their next model would at least be on par with what Nimbus could produce. His ultimate goal was to unseat the Firebolt as the pinnacle of British broom quality. Lucius thought his master would accomplish it before long; he had proven to be talented in broom design. Impressive work for a man who never apprenticed with a broom-wright, and was entirely self-taught. He just had a knack for the craft, and wasn't afraid to put an untested prototype through its paces.

 

Yes, the Potter industries were rather lucrative, but Harry didn't hoard the profits for himself, as Lucius had to admit he would have done had their situations been reversed. The money earned went to supporting Potter's people instead, and Potter lived on the interest of the investments he made with his inheritance. It was all very cleverly done, and everyone's coffers were full. He even managed some trickery with the goblins that allowed every slave to have their own vault – with actual ownership of said vault listed as The Lily Foundation for Wizarding Welfare – so they could purchase what they wanted without begging permission for every little thing.

 

Lucius still couldn't divine why Potter took in Draco, Millicent, Blaise, and himself. The rest of the rescued chattel he acquired through proxies, and farmed out to his various estates. Perhaps it was simply because Potter knew them before, and felt a heavier responsibility. He wasn't sure. Harry never discussed it with him. In the beginning Lucius feared it was to exact retribution, but their master had been nothing but kind. Their lives were as comfortable under Potter's care as they were when they were free. To a Slytherin it made little sense, but Potter was a Gryffindor, so perhaps it made sense to him.

 

“It's almost eleven. Surely they can't mean to sleep all day!” Draco interrupted his musings with another wholly unnecessary observation.

 

“Draco, they will come down when they are ready.” Lucius drawled. “Why don't you go out and fly to pass the time.”

 

“I'm not in the mood, Father.”

 

Draco's petulant tone was met with a sigh. Lucius folded his paper and put it aside. Between his mind wandering, and Draco's whining, he couldn't focus on the articles anyway. He noted his son's barely restrained agitation and sighed again. There was nothing for it, he supposed.

 

“Come, Dragon.” he murmured, patting his lap.

 

Draco looked at him and give him his most sultry smile, before swaggering over to his father's favored wing-back chair. The expression in the boy's eyes was almost predatory as he looked down at Lucius, licking his lips in anticipation. His son was so predictable. He suppressed another sigh and patted his lap again. He wasn't particularly in the mood – he seldom was these days – but if a bit of attention would settle his son, it was worth the sacrifice.

 

“Daddy.” Draco whispered, straddling the older man's lap, and melding himself against his father. Then Draco was kissing him hard, and frantic fingers were buried in his long blonde tresses. They had shorn him nearly bald as a punishment at the training house, but his hair grew back over time. Now it was as long and lustrous as it ever was. Lucius was nearing fifty, but he didn't look a day over thirty-five. He was still handsome, and well built. His body firm, without any sign of the dreaded middle aged spread. Draco couldn't get enough of him.

 

Lucius parted his lips and sucked Draco's bottom lip between his own, biting just hard enough to make his son moan, and press closer still, grinding his arousal down, desperate for friction. These encounters were always short and intense, as Draco desired them to be. He was just as impatient in his love play as in every other aspect of his life. Lucius was used to it, and indulged him in this as in everything. It didn't matter to either of them that he rarely felt arousal during their trysts, and Draco enjoyed rubbing against his father's body, even when he felt no answering hardness below him.

 

“Daddy, please!” Draco groaned against his mouth, beginning to pant.

 

“Shh, Dragon.” he whispered, untucking the youth's shirt from his trousers, then unbuttoning his fly. His hand slipped inside Draco's pants with practiced ease, and found the firm flesh waiting for him, eager and dripping, as expected. “Daddy's got you.”

 

Draco's gorgeous grey eyes, like shimmering pools of mercury, slipped closed, and he threw his head back as his father pleasured him. He began rotating and thrusting his hips in such a way that Lucius hardly had to stroke him. All that was needed from his father at times like these was willingness, and a firm grip. Draco was content to do most of the work, which was probably why it was so easy for Lucius to continue gratifying him, despite the guilt and shame he felt after each interlude.

 

Lucius heard a gasp and turned to see his master standing just inside the door with a very shocked Severus Snape. Draco opened his eyes, saw their audience, and came hard, soaking the front of his father's expensive tailored silk robe with his copious seed. The shameless little exhibitionist. Draco's lips contorted into a devilish grin, Severus gaped, Potter pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, and Lucius blushed a becoming shade of pink.

 

“Guys... I've asked you to please keep these activities in your bedroom.” Harry huffed, rolling his eyes. He was well used to their proclivities by now, but Lucius wished Severus hadn't witnessed this scene.

 

“I'm irresistible, Harry. Deal with it.” Draco laughed and stood up, not bothering to tuck away his wilting member. He tipped a wink at his godfather, who flushed and looked away.

 

“Draco, don't be uncouth.” Lucius snapped in embarrassment, as he stood and removed his now stained robe, nose wrinkling at the splotches marring the baby blue garment. Thankfully the mess hadn't seeped through to his shirt. “Make yourself presentable!”

 

Severus stood blushing, staring at the floor, unwilling to make eye contact with his friend and godson after their rather alarming display. Lucius felt horrible for making the man uncomfortable on this first day home with them. Not an auspicious reunion, to be sure.

 

Draco stretched languidly before doing as his father requested. He tucked his sensitive organ into his satin underwear, tucked his cream colored silk shirt into his khaki linen trousers, then buttoned up the fly. They were all three pleasure slaves, and Harry was their master. The man had fucked all of them at one point. He didn't see the problem with being partially unclothed in their presence. He would have lounged about the house naked if Harry and Millicent wouldn't complain. Draco smiled and went to greet his godfather properly.

 

“It's so good to see you, Uncle Severus.” the youngest Malfoy began once he reached his former professor. “I was so happy to find out you survived.”

 

“Draco.” Severus whispered his greeting, looking up at the young blonde through his lashes. He relaxed a bit once he saw that his godson was now properly attired.

 

Lucius suppressed his urge to frown when he heard his once commanding friend speak. He knew what his time with Lockheart had done to him and his son, and it would appear he should be thankful it was a very short period indeed, if this was what Severus was reduced to. Most of the man's fire was extinguished. Lucius mourned the loss, but forced a pleasant expression on his face as he stepped forward to tender his own greeting.

 

“Severus. It is good to see you, old friend.” Lucius offered his hand. Severus hesitated a moment, but finally shook with him. “I am sorry you saw us like that. Harry is correct, we should keep certain activities private.”

 

“I... ah, yes. Um... it is good to see you again, Lucius.” Severus smiled briefly, a quirk of the lips that didn't reach his eyes, which were darting between Lucius and his son in confusion. Wondering, no doubt, about what had led to such a relationship between them. It would be a long painful explanation, but one he would postpone until Severus was better settled in their home. More sure of himself.

 

As if sensing his distress, Harry took Severus's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Severus gave their master a look of gratitude, and Harry smiled.

 

“Since we missed breakfast, we were going to have an early lunch in the garden. Would you two like to join us?” Harry asked. “Millie is with Blaise today. One of the thesterals is expecting a foal.”

 

“That will be perfect. Won't it, father?” Draco took to the idea with enthusiasm, happy to spend time reacquainting himself with his godfather.

 

Lucius looked at his friend. It was obvious that Severus was nervous, but didn't seem too unwilling to share a meal with them, so he decided it would be alright to accept their master's invitation.

 

“Yes. That sounds acceptable. Thank you.” was the elder Malfoy's rather formal reply.

 

Harry rolled his eyes and led the way toward the portico that opened into the east enclosed garden. It received a fair bit of sun this time of day, but had plenty of trees to provide shade, and the leaves were lovely in their autumn hues. Their master pointed out various rooms to Severus as they traveled, so he could learn his way around the villa.

 

“You have a lovely home, Harry.” Severus commented softly.

 

“Thank you, Severus. It's been in the Peverell family since the first century.” Harry smiled and continued to relate pertinent information about their home. “The Peverell family embraced Roman culture during the occupation, and this villa was the result. Most of the original features are still intact, but we did make sure to include modern amenities during renovations. Most of it is cleverly disguised. As far as we know, this is the only fully intact Roman villa left in the British Isles. Muggle archaeologists would probably pay a small fortune to be able to study it. Thanks to magic, it was far better preserved than anything they have access to.”

 

“You should see the original baths!” Draco crowed. “Harry made sure each bedroom got its own en-suite, but the original communal baths are still here too. Fed by a hot spring. Best part of the villa in my opinion.”

 

“They are rather magnificent, Severus.” Lucius smiled and chuckled at his son's enthusiasm. He knew why the boy loved the baths, but he wasn't about to tell his old friend about their aquatic liaisons.

 

“Trust Draco to go gaga over a glorified heated pool.” Harry snarked, but was only playing. He rather enjoyed the baths as well. The Romans certainly knew how to pamper themselves.

 

“Philistine!” Draco responded in mock outrage. He and Potter still enjoyed needling one another from time to time.

 

Even Severus allowed himself a partial smile at the younger men's antics, reminded of their more strident arguments at Hogwarts. Lucius was heartened to see the genuine expression on the man's face.

 

“And here we are.” Harry said, leading them into the lovely garden, protected by high walls covered in stucco. A table stood waiting for them by a sparkling fountain, laden with refreshments. “Looks like Winky beat us here.”

 

The four men settled themselves around the table. Draco and Lucius began filling their plates, but when Severus looked unsure, Harry filled one for him, and whispered something in the other man's ear that made Severus smile as he accepted it. They gazed at one another for long moments before Harry finally looked away, eyes glowing, and filled a plate for himself as well.

 

That was interesting. Lucius had never seen Harry look at anyone the way he was looking at Severus. If he didn't know better he would say that his young master was smitten with his newest slave. But that couldn't be right. Could it? If their master wasn't interested in either Lucius or Draco, surely Severus Snape wouldn't be the one to tempt him. Would he?

 

He studied their body language. How they tended to lean toward one another. How Harry would touch Severus's hand. And there! Harry wiped a crumb from the corner of Severus's mouth with his own serviette. And Severus blushed and dropped his eyes almost flirtatiously when he did it. Well, well, well. This was most interesting indeed. And who would have thought? There was definite attraction between them.

 

Lucius was thankful that Draco was oblivious to the byplay as he babbled on about the amenities the villa had to offer. He didn't want his son to say something to make the two men self-conscious about what they were feeling, and he especially didn't want Draco to suffer a latent fit of jealousy and bollocks the whole thing up. Severus was coming out of a very dark place, but Lucius didn't think the man would attach himself to just anyone out of gratitude. He felt Severus was experiencing honest attraction for Harry. They might be good for one another. Lucius would do everything he could to encourage the match. Yes, they might be very good for one another, given half a chance. Lucius would see to it that they got it. It was the least he could do.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
